I love a bit of emotional excavation. Curiosity about events which seem to disproportionately trigger can yield some very interesting results. I feel like I’m an archaeologist on a Stone Age dig. I get out a little brush, because we want to be delicate, right? And then I start working backwards slowly scratching and scraping and asking Why does that annoy me?. A little something is revealed, so I scratch and scrape and ask it again. Keep scratching and scraping and you arrive at some surprising points of origin.
The doors to my yoga studio are supposed to open 15 minutes before the next class. Then there’s time for a bit of bustle in the foyer. People say quick hellos, stash shoes and put phones on silent before heading in to the studio and setting up.
My yoga teacher, really nice guy, loves a chat. This means that often his classes run over time and the doors to the foyer don’t open until five or ten minutes before the class is supposed to start. The class usually still starts on time-ish but it’s the waiting outside which really gets to me.
We wait in a line along the side of the building. In winter it’s a wind tunnel and absolutely freezing. In summer, there’s no where to hide from the sun. There isn’t much talking either because we all know how the sound travels and that there’s a class currently running.
I get colder and crankier waiting for the doors to open and by the time they do, I can barely smile at our teacher as he opens it up. In the scheme of things, none of this is a big deal. Why so seething over something so small?
Yoga class is a contemplative place and last week while I was lying supine and cranky, I did a little emotional excavation on why waiting for a few minutes was such a trigger for me.
Being made to wait feels like you’re not ranked as important enough for the other person to make the effort to be on time.
The class before ours is the Advanced Class, so it feels like they are favoured and given more time than those of us waiting outside in a lower class.
I’ve been doing yoga on and off now for about six years but I still feel like a beginner. I can’t get to classes more than once a week. Sometimes, because of work and family and life, three weeks or a month passes between classes. When I go again, it feels like I’m back at the beginning and so there’s a general feeling of time passing and me showing up, albeit intermittently, but still being in the same spot.
This rather embarrassingly mirrors frustrations in my creative life. Time is passing. I’m showing up, albeit intermittently, things move forward and then things stagnate and it feels like I’m back at the beginning or not moving anywhere.
So, when I’m waiting in the wind tunnel for my yoga class, I’m not really annoyed about the advanced class running over time, I’m annoyed about time passing in the real world while my creative life stays in the same place.
No, that’s pretty much it. It doesn’t feel great when you don’t feel like you’re getting anywhere.
And wear a warmer jacket for the wind tunnel.
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