The Art of Resting

Last night during one of my sporadic stints of yoga going, my inner voice was being particularly snarky with me about having to go to positions like "crescent pose" and "warrior 1, 3, 2, and reverse." I silently cursed all of the stretching and reaching and breathing as I stood there with shaking muscles, wondering if I would have been better off riding my bike instead. But then the instructor said the blessed words, "Go to child's pose," and I remembered why I started to believe that there really is something to all this. With my body whispering a thank you, I knelt down on my mat and rested my forehead flat on the ground, my arms limp beside me. In that moment, every pressure and expectation that had been perfectly perched on my back and shoulders throughout the week had no choice but to roll forward and away from me. And my forehead, which so rarely makes contact with anything, slowly melted into the ground along with my thoughts.

As I drove home after the class, I thought more and more about stretching, breathing, and meditating. We so often praise the person who runs the longest or the fastest and less the person who can bear to sit still for an hour and stretch. Even with my own exercising, I stick a bigger gold star on my long bike rides and hard lifting sessions than I ever do on my yoga classes. Yet, when I think about it, it is a bigger accomplishment for me to sit silently for an hour and just "be" than it is for me to stay in constant motion. And it is often while sitting still, my forehead to the floor, that I receive much needed emotional refueling and a quietness of spirit that I can then carry with me for the rest of the week.

Maybe there is something to the art of reaching instead of running, stretching instead of sprinting. And maybe, despite our mad dashing to different goals and destinations, the rest really is as important as the race.

Ripples

I saw a movie this week, "Beasts of the Southern Wild," that left an indelible on me as a person, so much so that at one point in the movie, I was holding in audible (and embarrassing) sobs. I felt so deeply and thickly the poverty some people live with their entire lives, that they can never seem to escape. And while we often use the cliché saying that "there are starving kids in Africa," this film showed that it is as much the case in our own city and country as it is halfway around the world. In truth, people are starving all around us, not just for food, but for affection, safety, attention, and education, to only name a few. And yet, some of the most unlikely of people face it all with bravery and a magnanimous spirit.

Sometimes when I am in bed at night and can't sleep, I started to wonder what my purpose and contribution will be (or even more haunting, what it was meant to be and if I missed it). Sometimes the most I accomplish after work is to go for a bike ride, cook dinner for one person (i.e., myself), and paint my toenails. But in those silent moments in bed, I often dream that I could one day be as big as to touch the world with a feel-better wand, that something I could do or say would travel far enough to make a difference. I have to remind myself though of the story of a group of people who were trying to safely move a piano. After much discussing and measuring, someone finally said to the group, "Just lift where you stand." 

As much as I would like to leave behind a legacy of humanity or compassion, I may have to accept my influence in a smaller sphere. I can simply believe, as someone once said, that I am responsible for the energy I bring into a space. So maybe the smile I gave a stranger in the grocery store parking lot, or the tone I took with a coworker, or even my own laugh floating across a room will unintentionally raise the spirits of someone I don't see. Maybe the ripples of these small things alone will circle wide enough to collide with the ripples someone else creates by lifting where they stand.

And if they do, then the world is covered.

Decisions

A week ago, someone I very much respect was talking to a group of people about what motivates us to make decisions. He asked everyone if we are the kind of person who makes decisions based on consequence or makes decisions based on our identity. At first, my mind glossed over what he said, deciding that I was not ready to look at my "identity" at 2:00 in the afternoon (in the summer, no less). But as I went home and mulled over what he said, it sank in—deeply. Do I make decisions because of what will happen to me if I do or don't? Or do I make decisions because, despite the consequence, it is in line with who I am?

When we were young, I feel like we learned right from wrong through a series of rewards and punishments. If you did something right, you were given praise, a treat, or a privilege. When you did something wrong, you were grounded, put in time out, or you lost something you wanted. As an adult, the rewards and punishments have changed slightly, but we often operate under the same principle. If I do well at work, I will be promoted and will earn more money. If I launder money from my work, I will go to prison (hopefully).

After thinking about this idea throughout the week, I decided to take the time to look at the decisions I make in my own life. Instead of doing a good job at work because I want my boss to notice, I will do well because I am a hard, honest worker, whether someone sees it or not. Instead of making good spiritual decisions because of what will happen to me if I don't, I will make them because I am a person who wants God to know that I honor Him. And instead of loving and serving someone because I hope they will do it back, I will do it because I am a person with an immeasurable capacity to love, despite its returns.

In the words of the Disney creator, "When your values are clear to you, making decisions becomes easier." So here is to clearer values, and the courage to make decisions from my core.