What’s your story?

“We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.” - Talmud

We all have a story.

On our mats, I’d bet each of us has at least one persistent storyline about our limitations—why we can’t perform a certain asana or perhaps tales of old injuries that we never want to risk exposing ourselves to again (ever). I shared with you my old "drop back” narrative: it’s only an asana, who cares in the big scheme of things, everybody has at least one pose they don’t do, so this will be mine, no way I'm trying it in public, surely I'll hurt or embarrass myself...

“If an idiot tells you the same story every day for a year, you would end up believing it”.

Need I say more about my internal blather?

The most important story we will ever tell about ourselves is the story our inside voice tells to our self. The good news, we are both the author and the hero; heroes are never ordinary. But, even heroes can get stuck from time to time, stop listening, and succumb to complacency. Our stories, similar to the consequences of neglecting our bodies, can suffer from an unhealthy hardening of categories and calcification of perceptions.

So our practice this week focused on listening to the tales we tell ourselves on our mats. To help confront our stories, we performed most of our regular asanas with an element of asymmetry. In short, whether a story or an asana, difference helps us find connection.

Example: Is your story that there is only one way to perform bhujangasana (cobra) or pincha mayurasana (fore arm balance)? What does your internal narrator have to say when you’re invited to change it up, place one hand palm down, put the other on finger tips and twist (goofy style)? Are you open to the change? Or, did you have to confront that inside voice who told you how it was and always will be?

In much the same way, our bodies also respond to being challenged, taken off center, by the new and different, right juxtaposed versus coordinated with the left, hence cross training, or (so they tell me) the reason for those mysterious Bosu balls. You never know your core strength more than when something tries to knock you off center.

And...it's worth mentioning other bylines you offered up:
• Chaturanga dandasana (low push up)…is a short story, or
• Eka pada koundinyasana II (arm balance)…is a fantasy, 30 year epic!

“Be careful how you interpret the world, it is like that.”

Let’s be honest, we don’t just tell stories to ourselves on our mats. We also tell them about work, health, happiness, and family. I was fortunate to attend a seminar by Jim Loehr, a sport and leadership psychologist and author of “The Power or Story”, who encouraged us to first write our old stories on these topics and then compose our new stories. You should definitely try this! I found my old story included some egregiously flawed logic.

As class drew to a close, our last asana was matsyasana (fish) pose, where I suggested a fish spends its entire life in water without knowing it. In other words, once a story inculcates us, it can be difficult to change, because it becomes who we are, the world in which we live. [And duly noted, it’s debatable whether or not a fish knows it’s in water:) How could I really know? Thank you for suspending your scientific inquiry and indulging me to make a point! ]

Finally, we practiced "Talking back to your mind, to change your story (samskaras)meditation."

As you you sit for meditation, listen to that inside voice, and witness the thoughts as they pass by. If a passing thought is negative, painful, or blaming, then take control of the story and substitute it with a positive, loving or empowering thought. You shift the story, but not in a false, or unauthentic way. So for instance only substitute an angry thought with forgiveness, if you mean it. If not, then perhaps an angry story line is replaced with a reminder that “I have what I need to deal with this”, “There is another way of looking at this”, “This will pass” or “My intention is that this situation unfolds for the highest good.”

Our stories are meant to be told.

To be human, is to have a story to tell. As we remember and retell our stories and create new ones we become the authors, the authorities of our own lives. The script is being written, played, whether we are conscious about it or not. My wish for each of you as we left our mats, was that you accept the invitation to co participate in its telling. Whether etched in the corners of your mind or better yet you take pen to paper, write your story, to remember, to learn, to determine who and what you are, and who at what you yearn to be. All in all, it is the story of ourselves and of each other which we keep in our hearts…that makes us who we are.

The whisper of the breathe asks, “Who are you?” To which the internal narrator responds, “I am the story of myself.”

To a blockbuster, NY times best selling, Pulitzer Prize National Book Award winning story, Namaste!

P.S. After class, Connie recommended we read: Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann. Excellent suggestion, thank you!