Humble Warrior

I've gotten away from my yoga practice - that is, going to a studio for classes.  It's true that you can practice yoga anywhere but like attending church services, it's nice to get that shot in the arm to reset your mind.  I've missed that shot in the arm.  


I've been struggling with some big issues this week, coming up with more questions than answers.  I don't know what the next step is going to be, a majority of this is out of my control and I'm scared.  Because all I can do is wait, I've been distracting myself.  All week long, I have parked my butt on the sofa for a Grey's Anatomy marathon.  Kesha got me hooked on it a while back (thanks Kesha!) and I've gone back to season one to get caught up.  It has helped immensely as my days have been eaten up with the make-believe drama so I don't have to think about my real drama, but when I turn it off the thoughts come crowding in once again and I haven't been sleeping well.


During season four last night, my friend Johnny called me.  He just opened a yoga studio around the corner from our house and asked me if I would teach class the next morning.  I've been away for a few months and I was rusty as hell but I never turn down the chance to teach yoga.  So this morning I got back on the mat.


Thankfully, there were only three people in class and I got started.  I stammered a bit, I'm not completely sure my sequences were perfect, but I still got it.  I found my breath, I connected to my body and shared great energy with the others in the room.  I wondered why in the world I keep letting myself get away from this, my true love, my passion.  Class went well, they thanked me and Johnny and I hung out afterwards.  I didn't intend to, but I kind of unloaded on him.  I've been carrying around so much this week and it felt good to vent.  He listened, sympathized, and offered his take on things, and used an example from the class I just taught.  Specifically, he talked about the Humble Warrior pose.

In Humble Warrior, strength is required.  It's a deep lunge, opening the inner thigh of the straight leg as well as requiring strength from the bent leg.  Yet, you bow down as low as you can, releasing the tension in the upper body as you request strength from the lower body.  In class, I talked about how being humble is often the greatest strength you can show but that it's rarely easy.  Physically, as you bow down your lower body instinctively rises up to catch you.  You must consciously release the lower body in order to deepen your lunge so that eventually the thigh of the bent leg is parallel to the ground.  It's a deep pose and the full expression took me a while to master because it's not easy to override your body's instincts.  You have to trust that your legs will keep you from bonking your head on the floor and it takes a while to make that connection.


When Johnny commented on my wording and how fitting it was, I started thinking about what it means to be a Humble Warrior.  Without going too deeply into the philosophy of humility and applying it to my current situation, the example that came to me was admitting you're wrong and making amends.  That's an enormously hard thing to do and if you have the tiniest ounce of pride in your way, it won't work.  You'll come off as insincere and your false humility will be seen a mile away.  Being truly humble requires great strength - you must first admit that you have fallen short and who wants to do that?  Then, who really wants to admit that to another person, especially to the person you've failed?  Then, who really wants to give that person the power by saying 'what do you need me to do to fix this?'  Or even worse, come up with your own penance?  Being humble is not easy.  It takes the strength of a warrior.


We're a pretty non-confrontational society - if someone wrongs us, we'd rather sweep it under the rug and wait till things cool off rather than sitting them down and saying 'You messed up' or worse 'I messed up, please forgive me.'  We're too strong, too prideful and we'll be damned if anyone gets anything over on US!  We'd rather walk away than do what it takes to fix things, especially if that means bowing down.  But sometimes, that's exactly what's required.  Sometimes you must go directly to the person you've wronged and beg their forgiveness without the tiniest ounce of pride.  It takes incredible strength to do that - to sit in the hot seat, to take your medicine, to sit in the doghouse or whatever you want to call it.  It takes enormous strength to admit you're wrong and to put in the work to make things right.  It's much easier to walk away, start over and try not to make that mistake in the new situation.  It's much easier to be righteously indignant, to plead your case, to justify your actions, to yell that you don't deserve this, people should just forgive and forget, all that.  I understand.


I like to think that I could be a humble warrior.  That I would have the strength to bow down and beg forgiveness.  That I could endure whatever it took to make things right.  I like to think that I could lay down my weapons and make it safe for someone to beg forgiveness of me, that I could respect the strength it takes to do so.


But I can smell the false humility.  My ears burn with empty promises.  My heart aches because I don't want to fight, but I have to defend myself because I haven't yet healed from the damage I've already sustained.


And I realize I have a long way to go.