I try to stretch into my life, to catch a ride on a cloud, smooch a child, digest a delicious meal, lengthen a muscle deeply in a hot room, stroke my husband’s back, taste ice-cold water from a spring, feel my skin, show someone love until it aches in my heart, loan something to a neighbor, give something away I still like. Be me. ...
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My friend is dying. No matter how many mental gymnastics my brain does, no matter how sad I feel, no matter what I do every day, this underlies my thoughts all the time.
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I have been meaning to share this for a while now, but as with all things shame related, it’s hard. It happened a couple of weeks ago. It wasn’t anything horrific or bad but it has gotten in the way of my practice for a while now, so the shame is clearly lingering. I was super tired one day lying on my mat doing a full class shavasana. I thought it was going well. I had that crazy sense of time where I felt like I was in deep relaxation but every time I had awareness, another 15 minutes had gone by. Then the teacher touched my wrist. “You are snoring,” she mouthed. Then I felt the shame. Oh no! I was really embarrassed. I stopped doing shavasana and started doing some poses. I couldn’t trust myself not to go back to sleep. I felt a sense of panic. Had I embarrassed myself? How loud was I snoring. Did I disrupt people? I felt the need to apologize after class to the instructor. She said all the right things–“It happens to all of us, it’s no big deal, don’t worry about it.” I thought it was over. I let it go. I went about my yoga practice for the next week. It was the most tiring week yet. I was getting more and more exhausted. And then I realized what was happening. I was worried about doing long shavasanas because I was worried I would snore. I was exhausting myself because of shame. I confessed my transgression to a couple of women in the locker room. “I snored last week in class,” I shared. “Just lie on your side,” one friend suggested. I am still struggling with this in my head although I have been conscious of how this continues to affect my yoga practice. Before, I felt more free and able to rest when I needed it. Now I am conscious of trying to do long shavasanas when I am not so sleepy....
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Changing the toilet paper roll is sometimes sort of like a spiritual practice for me–at least I try to make it a spiritual practice. Sometimes it is okay. Sometimes other people change it. Sometimes I don’t even notice it. Sometimes, when the world is throwing me a few more curve balls than I was planning on, or if I am tired, then the toilet paper starts to get on my nerves. When we are busy and we have lots of guests, we have to change the toilet paper more often so it becomes a symbol of impinging overwhelm in my life. It becomes a tangible indicator of feelings of too much life in my living.
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