Grace at the Gas Pump

Once a month, I head to yoga teacher training. Yoga has been my method of self-care for almost a decade. Through it I have learned a lot about posture, breath work, energy and accepting myself as I am that day on the mat.

I have struggled with the taking the acceptance I have for myself on the mat to off the mat. It is something you will hear many yogi’s say. The ability to find the same peace while driving through Atlanta traffic that you have during relaxation (shavasana) at the end of your practice. To accept where you body is at that day. Maybe not being able to stay in a balance pose or release through the hamstrings. It’s okay. Allow yourself some grace for where you are that day.

I am and have always been very critical of myself, plus I HATE being late. So a couple weekends ago when I locked myself out of my car at the gas pump with the keys in the ignition, it was the perfect opportunity for me to allow my emotions to get carried away.

Fortunately, I was on my way to yoga training. I say fortunately only because I was thinking about what the day had to offer, what class was going to be like, if I really thought I could handle 8 hours of asana (posture) practice. So, as I looked at my keys, handbag, phone, and chocolates in the car, I stopped and breathed. With a dim-witted smile on my face, I went over the gentleman in the booth and he knew. He had seen me try to open the door, walk around the car; try to open all the doors even though I knew what the result would be. He saw me. He knew what had just happened.

After several fruitless attempts to call home from his cell phone, he offered to use his auto club membership to get someone to open my car. He even apologized when they said it would take 30 minutes to get there. Bill must have kids, you could tell he had done this before.

As I sat on the car waiting, thoughts came into my brain: “Why did you leave the keys in the ignition, you knew this would happen?”; “Way to go!”; “Great, now I’m going to be late and disrupt everyone in class.” But that day, I caught those thoughts and stopped them. Yeah, I knew the doors were being buggy and there was a chance I could get locked out. I’m just in the (bad) habit of leaving the keys in the ignition. Yay me! This won’t be the last time I will have done something silly like this – I’m human too I suppose. The people in class would probably wonder why I’m late, they might even worry. I made a mental note to call the studio once I got into my car. The good thing was I had left home early and would only be about a half an hour late. They key would be to not interrupt the calmness when I showed up. I had the chance to really get upset at my husband too. But how would that help?

About half way through my stay at the gas pump, Bill came out of his booth and offered me some cash to grab a hot chocolate or coffee from the grocery store too. He noted the chill in the air. It was the most sunshine I had gotten in a week. I was appreciative that it wasn’t raining and shared those thoughts with him. He just smiled at me and agreed that the situation could be worse.

As I stood there, I reminded myself about all the positive things that were happening. I was fully in the moment receiving and letting go of what did not serve me. I allowed myself to be there, to feel the anxiety, recognize it and let it go. It honestly felt wonderful. Even as I watched the guy open the door, I waited for any comments he might have had, they didn’t come. I was and have always been the hardest on my self. At last, I was choosing to give myself the same grace off the mat as I practice on the mat. To be appreciative for the kindness of a stranger, the sunshine, and even the random person that asked if I was okay.

I waved good bye to Bill with a smile and arrived at class 30 minutes late, just in time to start practice. All in all, it was a pretty good morning.

Breathe & Let Go

Yoga has taught me the value of the quality of the breath. The breath can take you many places. It can lead you to blissful moments when you can be fully relaxed yet fully aware. Breath is a powerful tool. The ebbs and flow guide our movements, in both the subtle and gross body. It is the breath that guides our bodies through our emotional and physical changes and challenges. It is our faith that helps us release and let go. Having faith that another chance to inhale will come, another opportunity to grow, to learn, to be.

Yoga has also taught me about awareness. Awareness of my body, my breath, my surroundings, and the energy that radiates from people in those surroundings. Knowing where my body is in space without having to see it. Sensing the moods when someone walks in the room and knowing how to adapt.

Letting go. Letting go of preconceived notions that something has to be changed if something is uncomfortable. Being aware of it and breathing through. The combination of awareness and breath is a powerful tool. I know my breath and my faith can get me through anything. No matter how stressful it is. Let it go. You will be alright.

For as easy as this all sounds, some days it is just difficult to remember to breathe. There are days I sit at my desk, and I stop breathing. I clench my jaw and feel all the muscles in my neck tense up. There are times with my children when I have to excuse myself from the room, have a "mommy time-out" and stop to breathe. Its only through this awareness, when I stop, reset my train of thought and breathe, that I can continue on.

I suppose that the moral of the story is - Life's too short not to breathe. Let go of what doesn't serve you.

What do you see?

As you may know - I'm a big PUNK Rock fan.

Ok- actually I'm not. I really like Adele, Kid Rock, Sly and The Family Stone, The Beatles, Johnny Cash, and yes, Stevie Wonder, just to name a few. So "Why the pink hair?", you ask. This was my creative way of raising money for a Susan G. Komen Walk for the Cure. But it turned into something more. I was really surprised by the social experiment that came along with my extreme hair color.

It was like anyone with a mohawk, dreadlocks, facial piercings, tattoos, or other "alternative, creative, extreme" ways of expressing themselves. The people that didn't know why my hair was as bright atomic pink color also didn't know that I'm a mom of 2 little girls, a member of the PTA, daughter of a minister, a registered professional engineer, ok - I'm not a republican, but just saying, I generally come across pretty reserved. I'm the type of person that will check if my suitcase is the right size to take as a carry on when I fly. I follow the rules, most of the time.

With pink hair, somehow I became a rebel. In certain circles, like the PTA, I was artistic. At professional engineering meetings, people asked my colleagues if I had gone off the deep end. On the street, at restaurants or shopping, I'd here little kids ask their parents about my pink hair. I'd see people stop and take a second look to verify what they had just seen.

I was the outcast, the strange one. I was the one not accepted because of my appearance. It made me think of all the times I looked at someone and judged. I was now being judged. whether these people knew it or not. I could feel it. As the days went on, many times I would forget that my hair was even pink. It had become the new normal for me, and for the people I would see on a daily basis. However, there were still times when traveling or at a different end of town, that I'd be brought back to the reality of how much I stood out.

Many times it started a conversation and I was able to share the story of why my hair was pink. Once I did that, I had the "hall pass". It was all alright and I was instantly accepted again. Sometimes a friendly smile would do the trick. I would dare say that in some cases it intrigued people enough they would talk to a complete stranger. Sometimes, people would just shake their heads and look away. I know that I have done that to someone in the past, and probably not even realized it. To them - I apologize. Because of the judgment, I will never know what I may have missed out on. To those that asked - Thank you, keep asking asking and you never know what you may learn. That guy over there with the dreads may me a PhD. teaching at University. That young woman with the nose piercing may have just come back from India on a mission trip building dams. Who knows what the "rebel" may have to offer the world.

Stop looking with your eyes and see with your heart.

Love and Light,
-Edie