The way you live your yoga will change as you move through life. Your practice will evolve and give you new opportunities to grow. The lessons won't always be easy to learn, but they'll be worthwhile.
New teachers and a new mantra
Yoga isn’t nearly as popular where I live now as it is in San Diego. Since I couldn't livestream to connect with people, I decided that I would learn from the nations of plants and animals that live on my property.
I missed Union Yoga and all of you so much that when I arrived at my new home, I often listened to the artists I used to play in class. It wasn't long before the title of a Trevor Hall song, “Walk quietly,” became my mantra.
It’s loud in here
The practice of walking quietly outside became a moving meditation and a chance to calm my monkey mind. Rather than mindlessly stomp through my days, I tried to approach each step with intentionality.
Within a short time, the forest took on depth as I began to notice plants and animals I had never seen before. I found myself in awe of spiderwebs coated with morning dew, unfamiliar flowers, and all manner of wildlife.
Life crept in
If that sounds pretty idyllic, that’s because it is. That world is always there for us to see, but then there is everything else that happens. How often have you left yoga class feeling peaceful only to be flabbergasted by someone’s bad driving? You’re not alone. Ram Dass used to say, “If you think you’re enlightened, go spend a week with your family.”
Even after several years of dedicated practice, there are still things that put me into a reactive state. I can walk quietly on my off time, but at work, I still catch myself reverting to old habits.
During one of my mandated 15-minute work breaks at my very average, non-yoga job, I was rushing around the house. I needed a cup of tea, the dog needed to go out, and I needed a few minutes to fight with my poor internet connection because my boss needed to see that I was logged in on time. So much need was floating around that I lost sight of the mantra.
Surprise!
I leashed up my dog in a big huff, yanked open the front door, took two steps, and recoiled at the thing that had recoiled from me. There was a large black snake wrapped around the lilies in my front garden. It slid behind the plants before darting into a hole that led underneath my sidewalk.
It seemed that I had been walking so quietly for so long that nature decided to move in a little closer.
What does the snake have to do with the practice?
After getting my heart rate down to an acceptable level, I pondered that very question.
That snake was a gut check. It’s easy to practice living yoga on a day off or around like-minded people, but what about when we're busy and working in a different scene? Yoga is not a thing to switch on and off. The snake was reminding me to be more consistent.
Then, I realized there was another layer to this teaching. (Aren’t there always?) Yoga can be super tough in the beginning. In general, though, people keep showing up to their mats and meditation cushions because they feel better with the practices than without them.
These good feelings are much like the feelings I had when I first started walking quietly. In your physical practice, you might encounter a newfound strength or joy as you progress. It’s not all sunshine and baby deer though.
Sometimes when you practice, stuff comes up. Often, we hear teachers say things in class like, See what comes up for you. They get it. A snake rolls out from under some log and gives you a scare.
The instinct upon encountering something unexpected within ourselves may be to back away. We all have these things, but how you address what comes up for you determines whether it will continue to roil beneath the surface of your being.
Venomous vs. non-venomous
This brings me to my final point about the snake. My serpent friend was a black rat snake, and although it was large, it posed no threat to the canine or humans that needed to pass by it. It still lives under my sidewalk, and that’s just fine.
When your practice brings up a thought, memory, or emotion, it may be worthwhile to engage in some self-reflection. Look at that aspect of yourself and determine whether or not it is venomous. If it’s a common black rat snake, then maybe you can contemplate how to let it be. It’s a part of you, and perhaps it will help you make kinder and more compassionate choices later.
What if it’s a rattlesnake or a copperhead, though? What if you can’t afford to be bitten by the thing that comes to the surface? Every single person reading this has a powerful story that includes a life filled with joys and sorrows.
If you find that the thing that comes up for you has venom, ignoring it won’t make it go away. If the snake beneath my sidewalk had been a timber rattler, for instance, I’d still have to do something about it. Catching venomous snakes is way above my paygrade. I’d call on an expert to help me safely move the creature to a new location.
Should you encounter something that you know is beyond your capacity to address on your own, reach out. We all have this incredible well of untapped strength and potential, but sometimes we need doctors, mental health professionals, or medicine to help us find it.
This is the real stuff
The idea that it's all love and light rings hollow when we engage in our practice as human beings doing our best to navigate in a loud world. Remember that you have your yoga, your community, and resources beyond those things if you need them. Facing down discomfort is something we do in class all the time, but learning to ask for help when we need it is also a practice worth cultivating.
Have you ever been surprised by a revelation you had while practicing?