Oh this Solid, Strong, Bending, Folding Self

A wise person once told me that he and his wife live in a two-story house.

“She has her story, and I have mine.”

Another time while out to dinner with a friend he told me that I was charming. An unnerving compliment, because at the time I was focusing on doing good deeds, making good grades – not aimlessly meandering through life on charm. I told him that I would prefer intelligence and skills, and would give away my charm for aforementioned riches. He then told me that the qualities we have, and the stories we create are what make life worth living. He went on to state that intertwining our story with the stories of others is the zest of life. At the time of this conversation I thought I was right to work hard and avoid non-sense, and he was most certainly offering an irresponsible proposition. But today I know that he was in fact correct.

The essence of living the life that we will for ourselves, while bending to the greater truth that is within and beyond can be one of the most challenging things a human can undertake. We have a view of ourselves. We pick the mat, the frame and the landscape and this is the picture of our life; our story is written. We log hours working on grades, work- relationships, projects – all of the things that will insure that our story concludes happily. Then one day we wake up, and realize we’ve been banging our head against a brick wall. We lose our appetite for this life we choose. We forget that we design and engineer this landscape.

Along the clear path in our idyllic landscape there are short-cuts. In another portion of our landscape, often hidden by the trees we draw, there is the long path that wanders well off the page. This is the part of the portrait that we didn’t draw….somehow it manages to impose itself. The short cuts are things like: Yes, I have to make money to live. Yes, I need a place to lay my head. Yes, I need clothes on my back. The list continues. But the long path wandering off the page is the shaded part of the landscape that we sometimes choose to ignore. The long path leads us on the journey of: What is my relationship to all things? A question that can likewise take a lifetime to answer, and provides much uncertainty- not to mention rough terrain. It is incredibly easy to get bogged down with the short cuts for many years and even a life-time. Yet the fun begins when we realize that we are the authors of our own story, and that along the winding path is an ocean for us to go swimming!

One day very long ago I was going to be an attorney and eventually a judge. Let me set the scene: Working feverishly to complete and excel in the myriad components necessary to be a desired law-school applicant. It was during this same time period that I took my first yoga class. I sat with people for meditation and yoga-asana. My attendance at yoga class a calculated way to reduce stress, and refuel for my many important endeavors. While these people around me so care free; contented despite ambiguity. It was clear they danced the balance of will and something greater in the way they held their bodies for asana. Somehow this ancient practice had become the cornerstone of their stories. My other thought was, “How could anyone invest such interest in this hocus pocus when there are exams to be conquered and essays to be written?”

These yogis would invite me over to have tea, chant and watch independent movies that didn’t so much have action, as they simply conveyed a slice of life. Naturally I was always far too busy with my short cuts to dance around on the long, wandering path with them in their tie-dye and incense. The thought of spending time with these people beyond sweating with them, each of us independent, on our mats, was the most terrifying invitation I could imagine. It took me three years to let go of this fear. And only now I realize my concern was that they would distract me by forcing me to have fun. At the time – I was not fun. Fun and I were like oil and water.

Time passes and I am on my clear path. After spending my first three years working in the legal field I lost the love of my boyfriend, suffering chronic strep throat and recovering from a tonsillectomy. I find it interesting to this day that the throat chakra is the seat of self-expression and truth. For most of my years pursuing a career in law I was ailing from a chronic condition ravaging this energy center. I was willing a life of sickness affecting my seat of expression and truth.

Somewhere along the way I got the message. Realizing my drive to cram my life into this “perfect” landscape was not as important as the real story that was within me and perhaps beyond my own will. It was time to transition out of law and into sales. I knew it wasn’t the end of my story, but it already felt affirming. I wasn’t sick anymore. I was tapping into my writing again and giving myself a voice – allowing myself to be charming again. This voice was from a familiar, yet scary place. Sweeping changes were the offering - if I was willing to listen. I found the wandering path. It wasn’t exactly what I saw in the drafting of my story; it was better.

Although I am young and by many standards should be schlepping through life as an attorney, I took the road less traveled. I can’t tell you how my story ends and today I am proud to say, “I wouldn’t want to know.” Bring on the dance. Bring on the tie-dye and incense. I want to taste it all. I want to continue to learn about my appetites. Most of all I want to make space for my voice and the auspicious voice and teacher that is always present. Yoga is the cornerstone of my story and it is with full confidence that I step into, dance and sometimes swim beyond the borders of my clear path.

Here is to the ambiguity of the wandering path and all the chances we have to go swimming. Here is to the play that we should carve out for ourselves regularly. Here is to celebrating the self that you are rather than conforming to some portrait you don’t even recognize as time passes.

Namaste.

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