Change is bittersweet

It hit me today.  I've known it would happen but today the reality of it hit me.  Tomorrow morning will be the last yoga class I take in this space.  As I sat at the coffee shop sipping Chai I looked across the street.  Reminiscing  about the first class I took at Yoga on Main.  

It was a Saturday morning and the first person I met when I opened the door to Yoga on Main was a woman named Kate. She had long hair, almost down to her feet.  She greeted me with a smile and a hug as she said "I'm so glad you're here." In that moment I had no idea how much my life would change; how much I would change.

My love affair with yoga had begun many years before.  By the time I arrived at Yoga on Main I had established a home practice and I was meditating daily.  Actually, I was already teaching by then.  My regular yoga teacher had stopped teaching on Saturdays so I was just looking for a place to practice.  What I found was so much more.   

Yoga on Main is not just a yoga studio.  I don't think there are words to adequately convey what Yoga on Main is but I'm going to try.  A lot of people, when they first come to YOM, say they can feel the years of spiritual practice that has happened in the space.  Some returning students have referred to YOM as the "mother ship" and expressed that coming back to the studio is like coming back home to refuel.   Some have said that no matter how far away they travel or how long they have been away they are comforted knowing that YOM is always there.  In a world of constant change YOM has been a stable base for so many people.  It's been a spring board for others. Over the years many students have been trained here and have gone on to become incredible yoga teachers themselves. Many opening their own studios near and far.  

At Yoga on Main I learned how to be a yoga teacher, and an Ayurveda Lifestyle consultant but most importantly I learned how to be a yoga student.  I have learned the tools necessary to navigate the journey to self-realization.  I started practicing yoga as a way to relieve stress but the practice has also taken me into the depths of my soul.  For me, Yoga on Main is a sacred container.  In that space I feel safe to explore, to let my guard down, to be vulnerable, to be authentically ME.

In this sacred space I have learned to look at the challenges in life as a opportunity to put the teachings of yoga into practice.  I have learned that yoga isn't just the physical practice that we do once a week in yoga class.  I've learned that yoga is a way of living in harmony with nature and with each other.  

Let's face it though,  Yoga is not all love and light and cotton candy.  This practice of yoga is hard sometimes.  I have had my fair share of challenges even in yoga land.  I've come face to face with my own ego and the ego of others.  Those times when my ego got the best of me I would feel ashamed about the way I handled situations.  I would return to Yoga on Main,  head down in shame and I would be greeted with open arms and the world famous, Shiva Das hug.  In those moments I learned forgiveness in my teacher's example. 

This sacred space that is Yoga on Main cannot be contained in the four walls of a building.  The scared space that is Yoga on Main is a way of living, it is a practice of living in harmony with nature and in harmony with each other.   Yoga on Main is a community of teachers, students, and spiritual seekers.  The wisdom, love, and support provided to so many is so big and so deep that no building can contain it.  

The "mother-ship" is moving but the sacred container that is Yoga on Main will remain the same safe haven it's always been.  No matter how far we travel or how long we've been away there will always be Yoga on Main waiting with open arms, a smile and the feeling of  "I'm so glad you're here"  

The man with the conch shell

I recently ran into a man that I had met only once a couple of years ago.  I greeted him with "it's nice to see you again."  To which he replied "it's nice to be seen."   That simple statement "it's nice to be seen." has been rolling around in my head for a couple of weeks now.  It reminded me of Mrs. Greene, the principle at the elementary school.

Mrs. Greene and I didn't always see eye to eye when Tayler was at Overlook but the year Jake started I had a change of heart.  It was Mrs. Greene who introduced me, and the whole school, to an African word, "Ubantu".   Ubantu, she explained, was a way to say I see you.  You are because I am.  It is a reminder of our shared humanity.   When children are acting out  they are seeking attention.  When Mrs. Greene would notice students not getting along she would say "Ubantu" to remind the children of the Ubantu philosophy:  I see you.  You and I are one.  She felt that if the children felt "seen" they would have less reason to act out. 

I've spent most of my life hiding.  Doing my best to blend into the background.  I choose the spot in the back of the room always.   I cringe when the Facebook notification says "someone has tagged you in a photo" And yet, there is an innate need to be seen.  

"It's nice to be seen" 

It is this innate need to be seen that causes some people to be boastful.  To be honest, I mentally slap people who act like Peacocks displaying their feathers.  I'm not proud of it but it's true.  I have no tolerance for people that constantly want to be the center of attention.  I want to scream at them: 

"YOU ARE NOT THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE!!" I hear myself thinking "Get over yourself'" when someone is trying hard to impress me with how wonderful they are and how much they have accomplished. Then I beat myself up for being so mean.  I tell myself that it's the green eyed monster of jealousy that is making me feel so irritated.   

In a moment of clarity I recognize myself in those peacocks.  I remember our shared humanity, Ubantu.  I remember that the same innate human desire to be seen is in me and in you.  How we express this desire may be different but it comes from the same place.  

It's nice to be seen but I have no control over what others see in me.  Instead, I will focus on making an effort to be more present with others so that I may SEE beyond the ego personality.   Who ARE we beyond our ego personality?  Can I see that within myself? Can I see it in others?  What does it feel like to really be seen?   

Ubantu... I see you.  I'm grateful to the man with the conch shell who reminded me "It's nice to be seen."