The Ever Elusive Lesson.

This morning I sit here wondering why I am dealing with a particular conflict. I can’t focus on my article, The Effects of Gender and Menstrual Cycle on Colon Transit Time in Healthy Subjects, because I’m residing in my sympathetic nervous system, my fight-or-flight response – hands shaking, heart fluttering, tears pooling in my bottom eyelids. One helpful tool to use when facing a challenge is to identify the lesson within it. But what do you do if you don’t know what you’re supposed to learn?

When, six years ago, as a happy budding yoga teacher, I blew out four discs and tore both my hip labrums after I tore both my shoulder labrums the year before, I learned my lesson. Though shall not push yourself in exercise to achieve society’s perfect body. I had an eating disorder and wouldn’t let myself eat any sugar or enjoy a glass of wine. When I couldn’t exercise at all for the years following these injuries I learned that I could eat without exercising and not get fat. Seems like a ridiculous lesson to some, but it was one I needed to learn to be happy in this world. Slowly but surely, I learned the greatest lesson of all time: to not take anything for granted. I learned (and am still learning) to appreciate every little thing my body could do. This is a common eye-opening experience for anyone who has been or is disabled – to be able to focus on what you can do instead of what you can’t. I wouldn’t trade this lesson for anything, even though there are many things I’ll never be able to do again.

But when my super healthy dad was recently diagnosed with stage four lung cancer having never smoked, there is not a particular lesson in this. At least not for me. It doesn’t seem like he needed to be humbled either. And, my particular current conflict, which pales in comparison but still challenges me, I also wonder about the lesson.

I think there’s simply a degree of chaos in this life. And as I write this now I see that’s the lesson. Much of life is unexpected. There are more outcomes than we think should be expected – hence all the lessons we often gleam from retrospection – but a whole lot of stuff happens out of nowhere. I think it’s because we need to learn to trust ourselves to handle it. If nothing unexpected ever happened, we’d be flabby little worms. Surprises are good things – they keep us in shape! We are forced to adapt like standing knee-deep in moderately sized waves. But if we don’t trust our ability to roll with it, we slump and get trapped in a never ending cycle of fear and feelings of betrayal.

The trick is to trust your strength but leave your armor in at home. It’s there when you need the big guns, but for most things, we should trust our ability to handle challenges. The only successful onslaught comes from within – our thoughts and feelings of doubt are the only things that can hurt us. Everything else is information. And if we wear our armor all the time, we cannot give or receive love. We remain in a state of contraction. Imagine an awkward or painful hug where you can tell someone is stiff and holding their body in position. Now imagine the best types of hugs – completely comfortable, restorative, intimate, a true union of souls. In the first scenario, we fail to see the human connection.

You see, it’s an illusion that we are separate from one another. It’s an illusion that I’m here and you’re over there. This is why interpersonal conflict is the most painful and vulnerable experience in life. Deep inside, we know we are one and harmonious. But when there’s separation, it causes us existential pain. Our minds turn against one another, ego forward, and our hearts ache to be reunited. Our bodies yearn to be relaxed.

So.

Why couldn’t I sleep last night and why did I have knots in my stomach when I woke up? Why did it feel like my work week was dragging me by the feet, claws dug into the memory of the weekend? Because I didn’t trust myself to leave the cocoon of safety that my fiancé and cats provide me each Friday through Sunday. But in talking about it, I know that’s just my lesson to learn.

I will learn to trust myself in these new situations, to feel the roots through my feet into the earth, to feel my breath connected to the collective breath of all humans, to feel aligned with my purpose, to focus on what’s worth focusing on. I trust myself to make the right decisions and the ability to be bold without armor. Because, more than anything, I want to feel connected and be able to freely love people who most need it from someone. I can’t give anything from a place of fear. So I’m done.

Comments