How It’s Been Going Since The Election

On Monday, I walked to the gym and did the machines. Then walked back home.

I listened to the latest Sam Harris podcast called Reckoning as I walked.

He blames the Dems for not addressing the trans issue properly. 

Whatever. 

Everybody has their pet theory on why Harris lost so disastrously.

Trump’s starting to announce his cabinet picks.

God help us.

Xmas

I told G last night that if she didn’t want to hang Christmas lights this year, I was fine with that. We had already decided that JOY was not going up. Too much cognitive dissonance.  

But she said, “We don’t do lights for anyone but us. You, especially, love coming home from class and seeing them.”

And she’s right. I do.

So, we’ll do lights. But if we had enough twinkly-light letters, I could see putting a FUCK TRUMP display in the front yard.

Yoga

I’m still triggered. It’s been a week and a day. I taught Power on the Monday before the election and Gentle on Tuesday. 

I taught Yin on Wednesday, the day we knew Trump had won. That day, Fred came bopping into class all howdy-doody, and I wanted to punch him in the face. 

I taught Happy Hour on Friday but renamed it Yoga @ 4:30. No more Happy. Let’s be real.

 I’ve cycled through almost another full week of classes as of this writing. There were eight people in the room for Gentle on Tuesday. It was a balm to my heart. It truly was.

Last night, two for Yin. Yin is a harder sell because it’s strange.

Teaching really helps me.

But it is so difficult to get myself there.

I think,”I can’t do this. I really can’t do this.”

But then I do.

I take a shower, do my hair, decide what to wear, and drag myself up the stairs thinking, “How much longer can I do this? What’s the point? Nobody comes, or very few.”

I hang up my coat, take off my shoes, and begin setting up the room: pick the music, and light the candles. I dim the overheads. I power on the spiral.

It feels so warm, so sacred, so calm. It feels like church. It feels like a world apart.

I look at my sequence. I connect the Zoom. I wait.

Some people come. One or two. Eight on Tuesday.

I talk to the people online. One or two, sometimes more. I greet Nancy’s cats, “Hi, Freddie! Hi, Clara! Good kitties.”

Then we start. Slow, quiet. No politics. No outside world. 

Just deepen your breath.

And we’re off.

And by the end, they’re in a trance, and I’m in a trance. My cortisol levels are down. My blood pressure is normal. My body is unclenched. I’m not raging in my mind. It’s quiet in there.

I’ve been reading from The Pivot Year by Brianna Wiest before savasana. I haven’t read the book myself, so the readings are as much of a surprise to me as to them.

I ask someone in class to give me a number between 1 and 365. Then, I open the book and read that day’s entry. 

On Tuesday, Lilace picked Day 7, and last night, Susan picked Day 30. Both readings left me gasping.

Day 7

Maybe you don’t need to find more energy, maybe you just need to find a dream that makes you actually want to get up in the morning. Maybe you need to find something that gives back more than it takes. Maybe you need to stop trying to be good at the hundred things that do not light up your soul, and finally choose the one that does—the one that asks you to risk, to lay your heart bare, to try again, even though you’re scared. You’re not failing because you’re not motivated. You’re not supposed to get far on a path that was never yours to walk.

Omg. The part of this that made my breath catch in my throat was when she said to follow the path that asks you to risk, to lay your heart bare, to try again, even though you’re scared. 

*deep breaths*

Here is Day 30:

Eventually, you will have to stop pouring yourself into the things that will give nothing back, that take without any intent to give. You will have to stop trying to make yourself fit into places you are no longer meant to be. If you are going to give your energy to anything, give it to what’s already working. To the people who already love you, to the things that show potential, to the places that make you feel more alive. Life speaks to us in subtleties, in the smallest possible ways. In the little clicks, the funny coincidences, the way the ordinary collides into the serendipitous. Sometimes, the quiet whispers are the most accurate ones. The voices of pride and ego and attraction are louder, but they are often devoid of the fullness of truth. Listen for the quiet yes, for what gently sprouts, for what grows, and grows.

This is the part that hit me like a bullet:

 If you are going to give your energy to anything, give it to what’s already working. To the people who already love you, to the things that show potential, to the places that make you feel more alive.

I think sometimes I operate with this Messianic fervor to try and spread the word. What word I’m trying to spread is unclear, but it has something to do with paying attention, or not becoming so distracted, that we miss our own lives. 

But when I read this passage I thought:

 Don’t try to fix, or spread anything, Kath. Spend your energy on the people, places, and things already working: the people who already love you, the groups or organizations that share or promote your core values, and the places that make you feel more alive.

Identify these people and places very clearly in your mind and then laser-focus all your energy there.

This realization, this truth, caused a little gasp in my chest, more like a catch than a gasp, really, but it was sharp and it was definitely an inhalation.

But then it was followed by the sweetest, most comforting, most life-affirming exhale. 

And in that single breath, I think I heard that quiet yes.