My Tent on The Beach

Yesterday, I was headed over to the eye doctor for some new,  exorbitantly expensive contact lenses when I saw possibly the greatest vehicle I’ve ever come across.  A silver Dodge Utilivan pulled up next to me and I never would have noticed it had it not roared past me, displaying it’s company to be “Universal Power and Control.”  There was a ladder on top…it was an electrician…or was it.

That made my whole day…as did my ridiculous knee-jerk reaction that was, “How do I work there?”  I don’t know how to do anything electrical…but I’m willing to be an apprentice just so I can drive that truck around Chicago.  Brilliant.

Of course, the irony was not lost on me…in fact, the whole episode was nothing but ironic since for the past 7-8 weeks my whole life has been one big shitstorm of unknowing; Universal Power and Control has been my sad, pathetic mantra.  I’d do just about anything to get it at this point.  And whenever I’m clinging on so tightly to that need to control, I just know that whether I like it or not something profoundly chaos-enducing will surely happen.  I just need to let it go a bit.  There is a balance to all of these things.

So this morning as I was standing (okay more like trembling) in “vertical splits pose”–the one I’ve also heard called “needle”–I realized two things.  First, I came to accept the fact that I cannot have universal power and control.  Actually, I’m not even sure I’d want universal power and control–I mean, really, wasn’t that what the entire movie Aladdin was all about? [Sidebar: is anyone else as shocked as I am that the entirety of the western world has been saying this name wrong...and that it's -ah-la-DEEN....not ah-LAD-din?  Thanks again Disney for creating another lie my whole life is tremulously built upon. End Sidebar].  My greater insight, though, is that I already have universal power and control–but it’s really only over my universe which is mildly annoying but a step in the right direction.

I’ve been sweating blood over the past couple weeks, especially when it comes to people moving and moving on.  It seems there’s a lot of this going on.  I feel adrift in their seas…at their whim…I’m floundering.  Except, while suffering through breathing in “needle pose,” I began to think that the power I have in these situations refers specifically to my ability to trust them.  I have the power to trust the people who are moving and moving on.  If I can stop fixating on the circumstances [moving and moving on] and focus on the people [trusting they will show me the loyalty I show them], then the situation becomes more manageable.  The people define the circumstances.  If I empower them to do that, I can breathe a little easier, at least for now…by that I mean this second.  I’m trying to work up to a minute.

One of the greatest comforts I find in yoga is that these systems of thought are ancient…and they seem almost tailored to me in this day and age.  If Buddhist monks on the mountain a thousand years ago were fixated on how, exactly, to live in the here and now and not slip carelessly into the future or past, then…well…good for me.  I really am human.

And I still want that Universal Power and Control truck.  It’s just to tempting NOT to think about…

I woke up this morning at 5:45 to do yoga.  I know, “Who is this girl and where’s Katie?” right?  But last night as I was listening to the inner child (or perhaps scheming on ways to not stab my eyes out with pencils at the thought of writing and revising all day long), I wondered if changing things up a bit might not give me new eyes to see this day of wretched PhD work as a journey. This seemed my only hope.  Also, it helps that the yoga studio I’ve found (and quickly am coming to LOVE as though it’s a child) has an online reservation site that makes me feel like a kid clicking away in the online website candystore.  Hitting that button that says so enthusiastically, “Sign Up NOW!” was euphoric…hitting the button next to 6:30am seemed extra dangerous.  And with a $50 unlimited monthly pass, I stopped clicking at just 2, but it was a close call…I could’ve gone nutso on that online registration site.

But 6:30 rolls around fast when it’s already 11pm…so off to bed I went, setting the alarm for 5:45 (what!?!) and hoping for the best.

This morning arrives, I was surprisingly nonplussed about getting out of bed, got myself together, and slipped out of my apartment thinking, “This’ll be good…I’ll just fold myself in among the other people and wake up gently and without much notice from anyone else there.”  The class I was headed to was a “donation” class for community members of all levels of non-flexibility…you give what you can and are given the freedom not to feel guilty about your level of poverty.  I could outline the details that unfolded in the next ten minutes but I’ll skip to the heart of the story:

I was the only one there. With the instructor. It was like a private lesson.

Commence yoga panic now.

One of the reasons I’ve never done classes before (I’ve been practicing yoga at home with dvds and books for, like, almost 15 years) has been my utter fear at being watched doing yoga.  This is a very un-yoga-like fear as this discipline is all about feeling and sensing.  There should never be a sense of competition or pushing or judging yourself against others.  I really don’t have a problem doing this.  I’m not compelled to watch others and engage in a contest to see who can put the crown of their head to the ground while both heels are still touching the ground or who can lick their shins in a forward bend.  However. I’ve never really trusted that others were truly willing or capable of not doing that also.  My fear is one of being judged.

I think I have fairly good reason.  I’m as limber as a tree trunk.  Imagine a sturdy tree in your yard.  Think about the trunk.  Now think about the trunk trying to bend itself in half while staying rooted to the ground.  Imagine the the sounds that might be associated with this kind of effort: bark would be splintering off, there might be cracking and splintering noises, shards of things might be flung akimbo.  Welcome to my yoga practice.  Now put the tiniest wisp of a woman imaginable in front of me, watching me, and welcome to my yoga panic.

Inside I was mortified…outside I was trying to be serene.  And I just had to let it go.  Could I walk through the entire hour and describe the massive sweating (which I think is due to the degree of toxicity just in my own body…I’m about 95% tension right now), the trembling limbs, the insanely modified practice (I used literally every prop in the joint and sometimes more than one).  Yes, I could.  And it would be funny. Very funny.

But I think the lesson was actually that none of it mattered.  None of my limitations were actually limitations…we still did the practice, she adjusted here and there, but at 7:30 it was complete.  And it was good. And the world continues on.

It’s so interesting how much time I’ve spent actively sustaining my fear.  In the end, I was literally the only person that actually cared.  Oh the years I could have saved worrying if I had already known this…

…but I wouldn’t be horrified if, tomorrow, a couple more people showed up.