I’m afraid I’m still an asshole.
Last night I had a fight with my husband– just a cyclical, once a month explosion over nothing. But for f–k’s sake, really, I can’t even tell you what it was about (something to do with a morning alarm?) because it was so stupid; and for that, for that, a slam of the door reverberates through my system. I couldn’t sleep– the burgeoning full moon zeroed in on my tell-tale heart like a spotlight.
You teach yoga? You freakin fraud.
I wake up late, too late. We are late for school. I cannot find my keys. I cannot find her lunchbox, and where are those shoes? I’m stuck behind a garage truck. As I head back home, the mountains mock me.
The last thing I want to do is practice. I wrestle with the system inside my head– you have a commitment to yourself! You can’t run just because it’s hard today! But look at the sun outside, those mountains. I can feel the magnetic pull of my bike. And really, what is the point of this stupid self-practice, if I am still an asshole, albeit a self-aware one? Who the f–k cares if I can do a handstand if I’m still capable of such destruction?
A friend of mine, a young teacher, told me once about an ex-boyfriend who leveled this one at her: “YOU teach yoga?” As if everyone churned out of a 200-hour TT came out the other side like Snow White, trailed by birds, squirrels and a chirpy sweet Disney song.
“Well, that’s not the state I live in–or practice in, either.”
I suppose what makes Ashtanga both unattractive and seductive is this– the way it asks me to be with all that I am–and let’s face it, sometimes that means hanging out with an asshole, and almost all the time it means hanging with the antithesis of Snow White. Ashtanga asks me to look at myself squarely and f–ing change if I bother me that much. For Pete’s sake, practicing has taught me nothing if not this– everything changes; everything is changeable … that perhaps the impossible is within my grasp, that I can create a new habit– be it a leg behind my head, balance on my forearms or the ability to catch that moment before I start a stupid fight over nothing. With practice, really, what can’t I do?
“[The practice] reflected a clear image of how I lived my life and I could see it slowly getting better over time.”
~Taylor Hunt
So with no further ado I get on my mat because I want to, in regular clothes, with no prep time for adding heat or humidity. Just me, good ol’ Surya A & B, a standing pose or two, a stand on my head and finish. I scrounge up some meditation.
Then I act.
I get on my bike. I email my meditation teacher. I’m going to the mysore room for group practice at least twice a week. I buy a new alarm clock so we won’t have stupid fights about it. I contemplate how to practice catching that moment before it all goes to hell. In my mind, maybe it’s not so different from the moment when I fall attempting karandavasana. A new teacher I met and loved guesstimated it would take me three months to land that pose. In three months, might I also learn how to land on the precipice of that moment?
I’m still an asshole. But if practicing ashtanga has taught me anything, I know that maybe I won’t be one forever.
I love your titles! Lol!
Seriously though, we’re human and thus, a works in practice. Ashtanga keeps us centered and grounded in our lives. <3
Thanks LU. I have this weird thing with titles. they come to me and I cannot shake them. it’s why I was sorta adept at writing for Elephant. I have have a penchant for cheeky titles 🙂 And I most definitely am human
Thanks for your honesty.
Thank you. I hope that is what it is 🙂
You may be, but definitely my type of asshole! I guarantee you, Ghandi / Jeasus / Buddha turned to someone and informed them they were an ass, it’s just not recorded anywhere. One of my favorite meme’ states “Fuck you if you can’t accept I’m in a spiritual place. Namaste”
Thank you Eric! I love that image of the Buddha/Jesus/Ghandi 🙂 it’s gonna stay with me. thank you
You are not alone. You are human. You are beautiful.
thank you Kacey
Hey Jean Marie,
Thanks for posting. I’m an asshole too.
Deborah
Ha ha, ok Deborah, we are in this together 🙂 thanks for writing
I chuckle reading this as I’ve taken the statement, “YOU’RE a yoga instructor?!?” In the same category as someone asking me if I’m PMSing;) I’m more afraid of the mask pretending everything is perfect, than a chaotic family morning. No one is perfect, that’s the beauty of forgiveness, of ourselves and everyone else.:)
Thank you Paula! Yes, that line — You’re a yoga teacher? is probably the basis for a blog in itself. it’s something I think about a lot…yes, i don’t want a teacher who wears a mask, but I would like a teacher who has gotten further along the path than i have…or something. a balance. and yes, no one is perfect!!
That’s a wet-llhought-out answer to a challenging question