In the quiet, pristine mountains of Virginia one sunny day, I prepared for yoga. I stepped onto the deck in happy anticipation, until a blast of wind quickly chilled my enthusiasm. Off I went to secure a more sheltered spot on the property. As I wandered about, dissatisfied with the options, I saw the negativity, complaints, judgements, constriction. I soon realized there was no refuge from the wind and the heavy spring pollen it carried. But there was refuge from my own messy internal environment.
Coincidentally or not, a few days earlier I had received feedback from a coworker that I was complaining a lot. To be honest, it may have been two different co-workers in two unrelated situations, giving me that same feedback. Those assessments hurt. I was ashamed and embarrassed. I knew they were right, and I knew that I didn’t want to “be” that—a complainer. They only see the tip of the complaint iceberg. I live with it's monstrous mass.
These thoughts were on my mind as I sought a spot to stretch. And so I snapped to attention and decided to plop myself down on the windy deck, with the sun shining above and the valley glistening below. I determined to greet each gust of wind with non-resistance. I breathed in the freshly pollinated air with gusto, filling my heart with satisfaction. I basked in gratitude for the kind and loving co-workers who helped me see what I needed. Within moments I was open and easy, feeling free as a bird on my mountain perch. Every blowing breeze reminded me: Here. Now. Here. Now.
In this supreme state, something lightly tapped my foot. I ignored it, focused on the pose. Then something poked my foot hard, and I jumped to look behind me. Surely no one could have snuck up here without my notice, but the wildlife is busy up here. But no, it was my mat being blown up by the wind and was hitting my foot. I laughed with delight.
Even though I don’t believe it, I do believe it: The Universe was playing with me. Just as It dances with me in the waves of the ocean and laughs with me in my oh-so-human antics, It was playing with me. It was saying, “Good job getting your shit together, now let’s frolic!”
When I control the only things I can (when I can), and relinquish control over the things I can’t, I am the supreme version of myself. I am master of myself alone, and there is nothing else I’d rather command. There is nothing else I can command, and why would I want all that responsibility anyway? There is freedom in self-mastery.
Comments