Handstands & Hare Krishnas

Yesterday I dropped in on a Strong Vinyasa class at Smiling Dog Yoga Studio in San Luis Obispo, California. The teacher was a Hare Krishna dude with a shaved head and good sense of humor. He howled in Warrior II pose. And, due to restricting bread, dairy and beer from his diet, he’s lost 67 pounds and still has about 10 more pounds to go to get to his goal weight. What I liked most about him, though, is that he - quite unpredictably - pulled me up into a handstand in the middle of class and held me there for a good 30 seconds and commanded me to squeeze.

At first I panicked: What the fuck! GET ME DOWN!!! I didn’t know what part of me to squeeze and I was sure I’d tumble backwards. When he promised that he wouldn’t drop me, I thanked him quietly and felt the fear morph into complete awareness of the grip my hands had on the floor, the tightening of my core, thighs and glutes, and the total need for me to continue building strength in my shoulders and triceps. Later we practiced kicking up into a handstand on the wall. I wasn’t able to kick-up yesterday, but I started to get the gist of what I’ll need to do. It was exhilarating to explore this new challenge and to begin conquering the trepidation!

I’m not one to indulge in fate and I don’t usually subscribe to some universe-inspired notion that I am exactly where I need to be right now. Mostly I tend to think that life is a matter of showing up, hauling ass, and surrounding yourself with kind, witty, sharp people who can remind you to stop hauling ass every once in a while and to start smelling the roses.

Still, Mr. Hare Krishna Yoga Teacher, with all his humor and howling, also offered some much-needed reflections in his class yesterday. The universe doesn’t really care if I can kick up into a handstand or not. The universe also doesn’t care if I fall over or not. It matters not. Just like it really doesn’t matter if I succeeded at my last job. Pretty much the only person who cares about my status at my last job is me. My husband doesn’t think less of me just because my former colleagues held me in such low regard. My parents still love me. My friends still love me. The people (and dogs) who matter most to me still love me even though my former colleagues don’t think I’ll all that and a bag of chips.

He reminded us that every one of us has been hurt deeply and that we all have some dark moments, thoughts, and behaviors that we may not be so proud of. Every single one of us. But it doesn’t do us any good to succumb to those dark aspects of ourselves or to let how we’ve been wounded define ourselves. Dogs do an excellent job of getting over pain. If you accidentally step on their tail, a dog will yip one second and then start licking you the next second. Dogs don’t hole themselves up for a week crying over someone stepping on their tail.

Our pain may be temporary or fleeting and each day offers a new chance to strip ourselves of bad behaviors. During some final stretches in class, the teacher asked us to think about where we are today and whether this place is the hill that we want to die on. In my mind’s eye, of course, I’m reeling from the pain of leaving a job in such a tumultuous way as well as coming to grips with some less-than-graceful behaviors I perpetrated before I left. During my last six months on the job, I gossiped rampantly and grew impatient and condescending towards my colleagues. I knew the position was a poor fit for me long ago and yet I still wasn’t able to let go in a healthy way that fostered grace and compassion towards my colleagues. I’m not very proud of my own behavior.

I’ll admit, after I left my job on Friday, I had what felt like an insurmountable fear about starting my next job. I worried about feelings of failure and falling into the same negative patterns of gossip and impatience. Fortunately, though, today is a new day and Monday offers a fresh start at a new job. We’ll see if my next director is like my yoga instructor - someone who leads me into challenging new territory and promises not to let me fall. Someone who can bring out the best in me and guides me from trepidation into exploration and discovery. I really hope she is.