Imagine walking into a door to check-in at an all day event where 600+ folks have come to relax, gain nuggets of insight, and prey upon peaceful moment after peaceful moment. An opportunity to unlock areas in your body that have been strained, tightened or turned off. A chance to let your inner child out, your true self shine….you get the idea. Basically, you’re about to walk into a room full of women at an all-day Saturday yoga event. That’s where I was last Saturday morning. Except I wasn’t having the graceful entrance I had envisioned, I was being pushed, bumped, and prodded through the funnel of a line that was headed towards the registration desk. I could feel myself being ogled and sized up by a lady, I was told to sign my life away on a waiver and then a tight concert-reminiscent bracelet was strapped around my wrist. “So, this is how it’s going to be….” I thought to myself. I’ve learned after much experience to let yourself down with the least of expectations at the beginning, that way there is room for pleasant surprise if things turn out well or better than expected.
I entered the main room to hear the sounds of a gong. So naturally, I did what any inspired and experienced yogi should do, I laid down and took a rest. Ommmm
After the nap, I sat up and wiped the sleepy seeds out of my eyes for the second time that morning. My body has been under so many excruciating changes lately and was starting to feel a little better. I figured a day of contortionist poses and “Namaste” was just what I needed to get myself back to equilibrium. The room was packed full of people. A woman stood up and began speaking about her experience with Lyme disease, my friend sitting next to me, having experienced the same awful symptoms and hardships began to pour tears. I tried to console her. Soon after, I began my own set of water works because my body has been feeling like such a train wreck, with my emotions closely following in a twenty car pile up. This concept of loving and accepting yourself has been such an elusive one to me, and the effects of not working on this more have erupted in my face over the past month. It was at the moment that I decided that even though this event had some people I may love, some people I may not be crazy about, and some people I was probably never going to see again….it is just an event full of you’s and me’s and therefore, I had the freedom to just let this be what I wanted to make it into.
My boyfriend and I had a bit of an argument on the Friday night before the yoga day; you see, I hesitate to even call it an argument because we never do that….but, I suppose it was a bit rattling and therefore warrants deeming as a disagreement at the very least. I was driving us home from a party which I had gone into very tensely. I was meeting all of his friends, a whole huge GROUP of his very best friends! Would they like me? Would I like them? Would I say something stupid? Would I look OK? I don’t feel OK. Was I a huge embarrassment with how bad I looked? I tried on a new sweater and asked if he liked it, he looked hesitant before answering, which was answer enough, “It doesn’t really look like your style.” I nearly burst into a flood of tears, because I actually liked it a lot, and if he didn’t know my style, who did? Did I even know it? What if we don’t like the same things? Maybe we’re not meant to be together. I should stay home from this party. They’re not going to even like me. You see how I can torment myself? It’s so darn easy.
Fast forward five and a half hours when we’re driving home, I’ve had a great time and loved everyone there, mostly because I end up loving everyone, but these people were exceptionally awesome and noteworthy of praise. I am tailing a little close to the car in front of me, who just so happened to be my boyfriend’s friend and his wife (who was driving their vehicle home). I have a hard time seeing at night, but FURTHER, I have a hard time getting things RIGHT. So, of course when a comment was made about my tailgating, I held back the water works and instead let out a snappish comment. One that was enough to put a rift between us, as he likely wished he had never met the psychotic lady driving him home, and I wishing I was never born, and down into the rabbit hole I spiraled.
I woke up the next morning with these feeling of self-hatred weighing heavily and took them to the yoga practice with me. They’re still not entirely gone yet, but the day was so blissful, so opening, and so revealing that I couldn’t help but let a tiny bit of it go. There was one class where she discussed how it’s almost impossible to be positive in your projections for yourself and others, when you are tightly bound. Lord knows, “Rubber Band Chi” is my favorite posture!
I’m not exactly sure the tangible lessons I can bring back home from the day of Yoga, only that it turned out well when I took a stroll inside myself and let myself just hang out there, rather than running away from discovering my loathed self and I gained sheer and total enlightenment after levitating a few times and vowing that using my iPhone and checking my Facebook is un-spiritual and most un-yogi of me (as evidenced by the below photo where I was caught TEXTING!!!). After seven hours of yoga, I had a nice chat with my boyfriend and we talked through, he let me explain my entire childhood, all of my life experiences, my past ten jobs, and the weird dream I had the other night so I could explain how that was what had culminated into my outburst. And I accepted his practical explanation that he was just trying to offer a solution accompanied by his apology. And I came to the conclusion I always come to, C’est la vie. Life is what you make it.