I read student essays for my day job. All those times you took a test and wondered how the essay portion was scored…well… it was done by people like me. My work is normally pretty uneventful, but yesterday was tough.
Sometimes instead of addressing the prompt, students pour out the depths of their souls. When their words indicate that they could be in danger, we have to help them. Yesterday, I had to send help.
Growing awareness
In yoga, we learn to be sensitive to the most minute details of our bodies and our breath. You’ll find that the sensitivity you initially built to help you capture the subtleties of asana or breathwork becomes an ingrained part of your being. You have the capacity to notice your state no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Your yoga peeled itself off the mat and got stuck to your whole life.
After sending help, I became aware of the sensations in my body. The most distracting of all was my stomach, which literally ached after reading what I read. The swirling compassion, anger, and frustration reminded me of all the other times I’ve had to send help because adults couldn’t be bothered to act like grown-ups. This was coupled with the struggle that every mandated reporter will understand well: the tension between helping the person and being afraid of the repercussions on that person and their family after submitting the report. How can doing the right thing feel so scary?
My practice let me see the unfolding of this kaleidoscope of sensations. It bore witness to the storm. For reasons I discussed during Mindful Minutes this week, my nerves have been wrecked these days anyway. Being able to see one's reaction is a useful side effect of yoga. (There are so many studies on the connection between yoga and emotional regulation. This one and this one are just two.) Observing the wave of emotions and sensations seemed to help me deal. I hope you'll find the same is true for you.
I came here for the joy
The email title promises you joy, though, and you might be wondering where that part of the message is.
As I steadied myself, a flash of red sped across my field of vision. The view outside my office is a wall of trees in their full summer glory, and in those trees, there lives a scarlet tanager. The red drew my eyes, but my ears followed. My window was open, and the wind danced across the leaves with a sound akin to waves reaching the shore. I heard the songs of so many alive things, and for a moment, I was transported from my worries.
The lesson of the practice is a necessary one for troubling times. There is no denying the struggles articulated by the essay-writing student. When we see suffering in the world, the result should be that we look with eyes of compassion and act instead of looking away. The red bird flew and reminded me, “Yes, all that is true, but there’s also this.” When I heard what he had to say, I remembered my wonder for the natural world.
Here was a balm for worries. Here was an invitation to feel joy. Both realities are true at the same time. We can take action and have compassion, but to do it well, we also need to connect with our peace.
Yoga and activism
Unless you’re living under a rock, you’ve witnessed and/ or felt the turbulence of the last few weeks. If you’re like me, you may feel like there’s nowhere for you to yell loudly enough. This energy can compel us to engage, but if we don’t manage it properly, it can play havoc on us. It can make us too unwell to engage effectively.
Don’t forget to recharge your batteries. Don’t forget that there’s a counterbalance to the tumultuousness. As loud as it gets out there, remember that there are places of beauty and quiet. “Yes, all that is true, but there is also this.” Depending on where you are, the stillness may exist only in the space of a breath. Use your training to find those pockets of stillness, and if you’re having trouble, our community can help.
I can’t think of anything more powerful than people clear in their life’s mission operating from a space of equilibrium. Nobody’s tipping that raft.
If you’re feeling frayed
The things that require effort and promote ease ebb and flow throughout our lives. Whenever an imbalance occurs, we can start to feel frayed around the edges. (No judgment. I’m there.) It’s critical to notice the feeling, and then give yourself the space to stabilize.
When this happens to me, I set aside time to rest. It could look a lot of ways depending on what you find restorative. Shutting off the phone or curling up on the couch while you watch the entire Studio Ghibli catalog are certainly options. Go into the garden and train a few vines or smell a few flowers. A yoga class can afford you space if you’re having trouble making it for yourself. Feeling too fried for Hatha/Vinyasa? Give Yin Yoga a try. It’s a different kind of effort.
Most of all, remember your joy. Love deeply. Laugh loudly. Savor your cup of tea. Listen to the wind. Make art. Call your spirit back to you.
And on that note (and because I like it when things line up just right) I leave this message on finding your joy and coming back to yourself with a link to a poem by Joy Harjo called “For Calling the Spirit Back From Wandering the Earth in its Human Feet. (Go here to hear Ms. Harjo read it. To read it on your own, here's the link.) She describes calling one’s spirit back better than I ever could.
I hope you’ll call your spirit back to you when you notice that it’s been wandering. I hope you’ll find peace, and that peace will give you renewed energy.