We all know we matter.
And we all have the experience of shelving our tears or frustration at any given moment, because the moment has no room for them.
I imagine a parent learns this better than anyone.
My ability to do this comes from teaching yoga. We all know work is no place for the personal; but before I was a yoga teacher, I did not care much about what I did for work. I had bills to pay; I had to survive. So I did whatever I had to in order to have a job on any given day—and I did what I could while at my job, to cope.
In the beginning, at a new job, the people were new, the tasks were new and there was learning. But in my work as a secretary or administrative personnel, I honestly did not value what I did much.
I do now.
I can walk into any office and function effectively; I understand the process and the first lesson is CYA, which needs no definition. I learned about covering my ass by walking around naked for too long—metaphorically speaking of course.
I was chased out of a few jobs and have been fired many times but then I had extenuating circumstances: I was crazy or on the edge of it.
It may sound like an exaggeration but isn’t; one year, I had 22 jobs.
I know this because before going back on board as a federal employee, I had to account for it all and I knew they’d have records and I knew it did not matter. No one said a word and I was hired on as a branch secretary, after working through a temporary agency.
Now I care how I look; now I want to do well. Now no matter what, I want to offer my students a positive experience. I cannot always do that but I do try, every day, to do my best.
I love teaching. I love yoga. I love sharing what I love and feel gratitude for what my students offer me by simply coming to a class and being willing.
Sometimes I’m sad.
Lately, life has been stressful and we all know that experience, of wondering how the bills will get paid—or if they will get paid. Life happens to all of us and although I put on a smile and dress up my attitude to reflect an intention of love, sometimes my heart is heavy.
And then I have to remember that the class I am teaching is not about me.
In fact, little in life is about me, try as I might to make it about me.
It’s a bit of a relief actually; I think I matter and know I don’t.
Truth always sits in the pocket of paradox.
And the pocket can hold golden nuggets as well as shards of glass. But it we know what’s there, we can share the gold and discard the edges that hurt.
If we don’t know it’s there ,we don’t always know what we are sharing or even how to do so.
One teacher told me to look out at the world, first.
In his context, it was to get me out of my shallow hole that I felt was deep. And my hole was a menagerie of thoughts wrapped so tightly I was not in my body or my moment.
So now I look out to experience what is happening within, not by thinking, but by feeling; it is simple and challenging.
It doesn’t take a lot of smarts to do this—but an awareness of self that I keep feeding as I grow and learn, remembering as much as I want to matter, in truth, I don’t.
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Ed: Bryonie Wise
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