Fourth Form of Madness

I like to think I am good with change.  But I’m not.  I really suck at it.  I resist, whinge, moan, try to stay put, and wail about the smallest things changing.  I wish I was more gracious in the transitions.  It started young with me.  I remember one day crying and sulking because I had been raised a level in the swimming squad I belonged to.  I was lamenting my whoas because I would have to swim faster and more laps against some of the stronger swimmers in the group.  Many of the other kids would have been pleased to be promoted and there I was begging to be left where I was.

So the other night when my friend and owner of the yoga studio I teach at rang me to see if I could take a class at very short notice I went into a full panicked state.  I could feel the whinging and moaning rising as I resisted and wanted to say “absolutely not, I can’t possibility take the class I have nothing prepared and I won’t know what I am doing”.  I could feel a plea of “please just leave me where I am” rising in my throat.  My mind brought up one of my most favourite and terrifying dreams where I am on stage to give a performance but I can’t remember any of the steps and I am up there shuffling around whilst everyone else looks on and laughs.  I blame years of childhood dancing for those special dreams.  So just as i am about to stay stuck, I hear from within me “Great say no just stay here and never grow, never experience, never learn anything new, just keep your life exactly the way it is”.

Damn that inner voice of reason.  So instead I hear myself agree to the class and I get in my car and go to the studio to do the class before the one I am meant to be taking.  This was an excellent idea.  The class before was a faster pace, slightly heated class and took my total concentration and focus.  So I dropped out of my mind and it’s fun house of fear and dropped into the surety of my body and all her earthy ways.  By the time my class came I was actually feeling a bit less tense about it.  I did still have the nagging feeling that my mind was going to go blank and I would not be able to think of anything to do and the hour and fifteen minutes would be spent with me shuffling around at the front whilst everyone else looked on and laughed.

Then there I was sat in front 15 or so people.  Instead of going mute, I suddenly find a voice that seem more authentic, more my own.  I am engaged with every word as it leaves my mouth.  I am not merely remembering a routine I have practice but I am looking around the room, gauging people’s ability and watching to see how they adapt their body to each asana.  As I walk around the room I feel more in sync with what is going on around me.  And before I know it the class is in it’s closing stages.  Something that had seemed enormous and undoable had been done and was actually fine.  Nothing to get over but my own fear and limitations.

As I locked up that night and got in my little orange car to drive home, I laughed to myself.  Earlier that day I had actually sat a philosophy exam.  Little did I know the real test, the one that matters, was coming later that night.  One I was prepared for, the other totally unprepared for.  Here’s hoping I passed both of them.