Do you ever have weeks when life presents you with the same lesson over and over again?  While this doesn’t happen to me a lot, it does happen every once in a while – often precisely when I’m in the most need of wisdom or guidance.  Maybe it’s the difficulty of these times that prevents me from learning the lesson the first time ‘round.  Maybe I’ve been so caught up in the busy-ness of life, that I’ve lost sight of the bigger picture.  Or maybe the lesson is just so important that it warrants repetition.  Whatever the reason, I’m always pleasantly surprised and grateful for the second (or third!) chance to grapple with it.

 

But I’ve gotten ahead of myself.  Let me begin at the beginning.

 

Last Friday I joined my son’s seventh grade class for a canoe trip down the Brandywine River.  As we were issued our life jackets, the man from the boat rental company asked if one of us knew how to steer a canoe.  When I said I did, my son looked at me incredulously.  “You do?” he asked.  “Yup,” I replied, feeling more than a little puffed up.  “Didn’t I ever tell you that Daddy and I took white water canoeing in college?”  “That’s a college class at Duke?” he asked even more incredulously.  (I really can’t blame him for being doubtful.  Twenty-plus years later, I can hardly believe my dad let me take canoeing on his dime!)

 

While we didn’t come across any white water on the Brandywine (which is really more a creek than a river where we put in), the trip was not without challenge for me.  As we made our way down the river, I found myself struggling mightily to keep the boat on a precise course.  I wasted a lot of energy on rudder strokes and wide, arcing strokes (not to mention issuing instructions to my son who was more interested in splashing his friends than anything else) in an effort to keep the nose of our canoe pointed exactly where I wanted it to go.  As I started to wear out, I came to a realization.  When you’re canoeing down a river, you really can let the water and your boat set your course.  While you need to make sure you’re going in generally the right direction (i.e. downstream rather than cross-stream or even upstream), you can let the zigs and zags of your trip unwind on their own and still arrive at your destination –enjoying your journey a lot more for having relinquished some control.

 

For a “recovering” control-freak like me, this was a lesson worth the cost of a college-level course.  And I was pleased as punch with myself for recognizing it even as we were paddling.  In fact, I began mentally writing this essay while still in that canoe!  I even spent the weekend consciously reminding myself that life ebbs and flows as it is going to no matter how I might will it otherwise.  As I learned on our canoe trip, my job is not to change the flow of life’s events but rather to work to navigate them as gracefully as I am able – and to enjoy the ride as much as I can.

 

On Wednesday morning, just a handful of days after my epiphany on the Brandywine, I unrolled my yoga mat only to discover that I hadn’t absorbed my lesson of control quite as fully as I’d thought.  When I rolled out of bed that morning, I was already thinking about my practice.  I wanted to focus on chest-openers and back-bending.  By the time I kissed my last child good-bye, I had mentally choreographed a series of postures to take me into some deeper back-bends than I typically do.  I hopped on my mat anticipating the heightened energy and emotional release that a heart-opening practice can create.

 

And then I started to move.  Even in my opening Sun Salutations, I could tell that I was a little creaky.  As I started to bend and twist my way through some standing postures, my hips kept drawing my awareness -- practically begging to be opened.  For a few minutes (OK, maybe more than that) I resisted.  I forged ahead with my original plan, gently working to open my low back and core.  As I took a deep inhalation before moving out of twist that was feeling particularly good in my hip, I realized that my plan and my practice were at odds with one another.  While my plan was to zip through the standing postures in order to spend more time back-bending, my body yearned to stay in that twist, to move deeper, to explore the powerful sensations I was feeling in my hip.  To follow the flow of my practice that day required me to relinquish control.  To get the most out of my practice that morning, I needed to chuck my plan (even though it was a good one!) and allow my body to carry me along some less clearly charted waters.

 

My fight to stay on course on my yoga mat wasn’t as physically exhausting as my fight to stay on course during my trip down the Brandywine, but mentally it was even more difficult.  On the river, it didn’t long for me to understand that the water was stronger than me.  And once I stopped fighting, it didn’t take long for me to realize that letting go was a lot more fun.  But it’s just me on my mat.  Isn’t my personal yoga practice the one place I truly can be in charge?  It turns out  -- not always.  Sometimes my body is going to set my course.  Sometimes my mind will.  Really, the only thing in my control is whether or not I show up, ready to practice and willing to receive what comes.  Not surprisingly, that morning, when I managed to step aside and allow my yoga practice to unfold, it was as rich and rewarding as can be.  Lesson learned – again.

 

Moving with the ebbs and flow of life is a lot harder to do than allowing the river to carry my canoe to its destination or permitting my body to alter the course of my yoga practice one morning.  Or is it?  As I maintained control of the general direction of my boat, and as I decided whether or not to show up on my yoga mat, I am in charge of determining my long term goals.  They can be gigantic – raising happy, healthy, independent children; lofty -- growing into my full potential as a person; or practical -- sharing the practice of yoga with as many people as possible.  What’s important is that I allow those goals to inspire me, to set my general course.  What’s important is that I regularly remember that I can live with a lighter touch and a willingness to let life unfold as it will.  As I learned to trust the river and my body to help set my course this past week, I can also learn to trust life to continue to offer opportunities to fulfill my big picture goals.

 

Namaste,

Amy

Become a fan of “Yoga Thoughts” on Facebook!