I received an invitation this morning to a friend’s retirement party on the 29th of this month. Before I responded, I checked the calendar on my iPhone to see if I had any scheduling conflicts. I was surprised, and not a little puzzled to see an entry for 8 PM on that day for Heart beans. Ten minutes prior, an alarm should notify me of the momentous occasion. An occasion so important that I have no idea what it means.
Apparently, at some point since February when I received the phone as a gift, I learned of some event or some task that needed to be done on the last Wednesday of August. I most likely took out my phone while riding (note – NOT driving!) in a car or while engaged in some other activity and quickly typed out a reminder, typos and all.
Something went from being of critical importance a few weeks or months ago to being completely forgotten now. Isn’t it often that way? The things which vie for position in the forefront of our minds from day to day frequently do not mean much to us just a short time later. Sometimes it helps to pause and pull back and look at the big picture. Let perspective shine on that which really matters.
I plan on going to my friend’s retirement party after I carefully add it into my phone’s calendar. And maybe I’ll bring a gift of Heart beans…if I can ever figure out what they are.
The 10 foot long paddleboards lay side by side in the sun along the sandy shore like fiberglass coated seals. Soft waves chased each other across the lake, encouraged by the welcome morning breeze. It was early enough that the herons still outnumbered the speedboats and the sun was just erasing away any hint of the nighttime chill.
I slipped my hand into the groove cut into the center of the board and hoisted it off the sand and into in the water. I carefully placed my knees on either side of the handle, the cutaway serving as a constant visual reminder of center. Stray too far and you fall in. After finding my balance, I carefully placed one foot and then the other on the board, staying in a cautious crouch until I trusted the board. Until I trusted myself.
Learning to paddle
I pushed up to standing, taking the paddle with me. After a few rough rows, as I learned how to twist and shift to keep the board steady; I was off. The board traveled lightly upon the water, the hollow thud of the waves hitting the underside of the board. Our small group made our way up a protected inlet where the current was not so strong and the boats not as numerous.
off to yoga class
We gathered in a group, our boards constantly shifting on the water as our minds shifted into practice. We were constantly reminded that these were not well-behaved yoga mats, sitting at right angles to a wall, rather they were dynamic surfaces carried by the whims of the winds and the currents. Common poses became uncommon when faced with the limitations and challenges of the board and the water. We each were ever mindful of our center. The water became our teacher, each little misalignment gently acknowledged with a tip of the board. Or, if the subtle hint went unrecognized, a fall into the depths.
attempting tree in the wake of a passing boat
There is no illusion of control on the water. You have only two choices: give in or give up. I gave in, sinking deeper into the board.
Pressing into down dog, the board began to rock with waves sent from a passing boat. Be with it. You can’t fight the waves. “Accept them and move with them,” was the lesson spoken by the water. I listened, giving in to the sway.
a vinyasa
I turned over, pressing into wheel, gaining a new perspective on the ripening morning. I felt the strength in my limbs anchored equally to the board as it danced lightly on the surface, creating a balance of contrast. Feeling emboldened by the sun and lightened by the sense of playfulness, I moved into tripod, a pose which eludes me on the mat. Every muscle and every thought focused solely on the moment.
wheel – a whole new perspective of the lake!
After lying in repose for several minutes, I pushed myslef back up to a seated position, so comfortable in my balance that I moved with ease. Bringing hands to heart center,
Namaste.
As I walked back up the beach, I could feel the lessons of the morning practice settle in and I chose to carry them with me.
Update: The following day, I was able to do my first full headstand ever! I love the fact that I learned the basics of the pose on the water:)
Do you turn your gaze when you receive a shot? Dream of a tropical island while you are on the dentist’s chair? Imagine walking on the beach while you are crushed into the seats in coach for a cross-country flight? Our minds are so good at these little disconnections, these travels away from the current discomfort. The problem is that, as with anything we repeatedly do, that mental disconnection can become a habit.
Deception Pass and Fidalgo Island (Photo credit: WorldIslandInfo.com)
When I take an honest look back at my life, I can see that I have, at times, become too dependent upon my mind’s ability to wander. I had two years of teaching where I was completely miserable due to the circumstances at the school. In order to cope, I distracted myself as much as possible. I was not present in that classroom at all, although I still made connections with the kids and the test scores showed that they mastered the matieral. I knew that I was unhappy with work, but when I realized how dependent I had become on being disconnected, I knew that I had to make a change. A drastic one.
Mindfulness is a highlighter. Examine your own life. When do you tend to engage in mental escape? That is a clue that something about that environment, situation, or relationship may need to change because it is causing you pain. Or, perhaps, you need to be honest with yourself about the discomfort and change your approach to it. Regardless, mentally running away from any lasting situation will not be of benefit. Bring your focus to the present and connect with what is causing you discomfort. As with studying a textbook, the highlighted areas are the ones that need more attention.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 