On getting my pants kicked or, "It's always skillful to meet yourself where you are"
Well, we made it. It's Sunday.
No matter what your schedule is like, I hope we can all agree that Sundays are for re-calibration, for carefulness, for sacred rituals and all the Netflix your heart desires. For those of you wondering, no, those last two are not mutually exclusive, and besides, the heart tells no lies.
Myself, today? I re-calibrated my exhausted body-mind with a 1) a long overdue restorative practice wherein I smooshed my face into pillows and gave myself permission to cry, if needed; 2) a hot and salty bath with dried rosebuds & lavender (a nice thought in theory, but ultimately, very impractical. Petals in places they shouldn't be. Crusty leftovers in the tub. Still, I'm not complaining.); and finally, 3) a mellow, misty-eyed walk down to the creek to converse with the local cows, who regarded me warily but fielded my telepathic wonderings nonetheless. Something about the way cows just stare at you-- jaws working rhythmically, big lashes framing those gentle doe-eyes--makes you feel like you could tell them anything and they wouldn't blink an eye, save for the flies.
Let's just say this: I have had SOME KIND OF A WEEK. You could take that capitalization to mean something glorious and delightful, or you could take it to mean how I actually mean it: a right old kick in the pants. At this point in my life though, my pants have been kicked so frequently and thoroughly that they're basically worn through. I know this isn't just me. All of us get our pants kicked, eventually. Life, you could even say, is just one big kick in the pants. But it just seems like some people are outfitted in lifetime-warranty, double-durability, hurricane-resistant Carhartt denim, and I'm over here still expecting my clearance rack, spandex-supplemented American Eagle hip-huggers to keep me covered (let me just stop and be clear: I do not actually own these pants. This is a metaphor.)
It's time for a new pair of pants, everybody. Or, to be more plain, a new attitude. Or maybe, just a different perspective. But, much like dried flowers in bathwater, this is one of those things that, while it sounds nice in theory, in practice it can come out a bit....messy.
A new attitude is no joke. First, you have to catch the old attitude in action, much like a bandit being caught unawares and blinded by the light of justice: "AHA! We've got you RED-HANDED!" That alone can be hard enough--old habits are slippery, tricksy, evasive little suckers. They've been around for so long they've all but blended entirely into the background of beliefs and basic assumptions which govern your life. Even if you do somehow manage to snag one in action, you have to actually own up to the old habit, like for real for real acknowledge its existence. It's the moment of truth: you see the habit; you know it's there; and while a large part of you would prefer to feign ignorance, you know that you are in the sticky business of evolution. It's your job to confront the dang thing and make amends, to possibly even forgive yourself in the process, for failing to go through the whole rigmarole sooner. After all that, there's the entire business of implementing a new habit, which I can summarize in one word: CHANGE. Change is many, many things, but rarely is it ever described as cozy or comforting or reassuring or easy. Let it be known: I do not like change.
A new attitude is no joke. First, you have to catch the old attitude in action, much like a bandit being caught unawares and blinded by the light of justice: "AHA! We've got you RED-HANDED!" That alone can be hard enough--old habits are slippery, tricksy, evasive little suckers. They've been around for so long they've all but blended entirely into the background of beliefs and basic assumptions which govern your life. Even if you do somehow manage to snag one in action, you have to actually own up to the old habit, like for real for real acknowledge its existence. It's the moment of truth: you see the habit; you know it's there; and while a large part of you would prefer to feign ignorance, you know that you are in the sticky business of evolution. It's your job to confront the dang thing and make amends, to possibly even forgive yourself in the process, for failing to go through the whole rigmarole sooner. After all that, there's the entire business of implementing a new habit, which I can summarize in one word: CHANGE. Change is many, many things, but rarely is it ever described as cozy or comforting or reassuring or easy. Let it be known: I do not like change.
This is what really gets me though. Change is constant. Change is constant. Change is constant. So what's a change-resistant girl stuck in her old habits to do? Luckily, I practice yoga, and while it's not coming to me right now (read--I'll edit it in later,) I'm sure there's a yoga sutra or two that speaks to this. I did, however, spend my commute yesterday listening to the most recent episode of YogaLand Podcast with Andrea Ferretti. She was discussing the summer season and Pitta dosha with an Ayurvedic specialist--I've often heard Ayurveda referred to as the "sister science" of yoga, where the qualities of our world are described with certain qualities or "doshas." It was really wonderful to hear more of the subtleties of Ayurveda, and how, much like we are not defined by our zodiac sign (thank god,) nor are we defined by our dosha (we can talk more about this later.) On top of that, it was so grounding to hear someone acknowledge that a person could go their whole life never hearing the term Ayurveda and still be living an Ayurvedic life; ultimately, it just has to do with how you relate to your environment. I've thought this way about yoga, too--so many people are practicing yoga with no realization that that's what they're doing. Chaturanga does not a yogi make. The big takeaway from this episode though, the one that really hit home with me? This quote right here:
"It's always skillful to meet yourself where you are."
This came in the context of reckoning with your imbalances, and implementing (you guessed it) change to shift your constitution back to a more even-keeled place. So that could mean, drinking a ice-cold water when you're overheated, as opposed to hot chai tea. Or maybe, going for a brisk walk when all you want to do is be a slug on the couch, instead of, you know, just staying a slug on the couch. Or perhaps, doing the opposite: taking a freakin' bath and chiling the eff out when you've spent a weekend in manic mode (who, what, me?)
This may seem like basic knowledge to some of you, but honestly, we all fall out of touch with ourselves at one point or another. And while this may not be THE key to it all, it does seem to be an overarching theme: Listen to yourself. Meet yourself where you are. Make peace with the fact that you might be super freaked out, or overstimulated, or unmotivated, whatever it is. Let that be okay, really. You are where you are. The trick is to then put your big boy/girl/gender-neutral pants on, and make a skillful move, based off what you know to be true about you and where you think change might be possible.
I don't write all this from some high soap box of yogic knowledge and learning. I write about it because it's so hard for me to listen to myself, but every time I do it's like a goddamn revelation. And I know that I've had to hear this from all levels--podcasts, counselors, articles, friends, yoga teachers, you name it--for it to really land in me to some degree: only I know what's best for me. No one can tell me what to do, or how I should be, or what my self-care looks like. I have to listen, and act, with skill. Make no mistake--this is essential. And it is absolutely a practice.
Whew. Well. If you've made it this far, thank you. I'd love to hear about your Sundays, your thoughts, and your practices.
Until next time
<3A
Comments
Post a Comment