stubborn reliance
“You are dust and to dust you will return.”
Twenty days ago, ash from last Easter’s palm fronds were smudged in the sign of a cross on foreheads while those words were murmured over and over, over the dozens lined up to receive them. I’m a sucker for symbolism. This one, for some reason, is one of my favorites. I wasn’t raised catholic but my kids go to a catholic school and for some reason their first year attending the school, I went to Ash Wednesday mass. I haven’t missed it since. Maybe its the melancholy. I’m comfortable with that, the sorrows of stories. Or maybe its the reminder of how small and insignificant we really are, but that somehow we matter enough to have this brief and complicated human experience.
Two days ago, I graduated another 200 hour yoga teacher training class. During this last eight-week session we explored through reading, writing, discussion and movement, the Yamas and Niyamas—the ethics of yoga. In class on the Thursday following Ash Wednesday, we just so happened to be studying Brahmacharya—non-excess. The principle of “enough.”
Between Lent and Brahmacharya, I was determined to be disciplined enough to leave something behind that I enjoyed but was extra. Do you know how many days I did that? Zero. I couldn’t even decide what it was to give up. So I didn’t. I carried on. Life, uninterrupted.
One day ago, all schools, businesses, restaurants and bars were closed. We’ve been 5 days without sports. Yesterday, I made the hard decision to close the studio for a couple weeks. Hours later the decision was finalized for me. My boat was rocked for a few days leading up to this decision. I had a vision, an action plan and once training was behind me, I’d have a bit more mental space to do it. I wasn’t planning on this kind of space. I definitely didn’t want to have to find a new plan.
Two days ago, as the recent teaching grads and I left our celebration lunch, hours later orders were made to close bars and restaurants except for carry-out. I could feel this thing breathing down my neck. With emotions running high (good ones!) from graduation, and uncertainty and things out of my control mixing in a concoction of intense and negative emotions, I walked. Take my own advice, right? Walk, be in the sunlight, breathe, find space to clear my head. I walked long and hard. And that’s when it struck me, all the things I wasn’t willing to give up on my own, all the excess, all the idols, all the things I thought were so essential, and here I was with them stripped back however NOT by my own choosing. It felt like a collective ah-ha for our species.
Isn’t that Lent? I’m not getting into the debate on whether God plagued us with coronavirus or not. That’s a losing argument on both sides. The answer is that everything can be used for good. Lent is a season of sacrifice, removing our idols and creature comforts to deeper our dependence on God. It is a reminder of His faithfulness even when we are in the wilderness. Lent’s purpose isn’t to lose a couple pounds or cut sweets but to realize all thats left at the end of the day are the things that matter—something(one) bigger than myself and each other. A season of sacrifice for one other and surrender to things outside our control. Ooof. I might have literally tripped over that one while walking.
And isn’t what we’re heading into also a slightly mandated brahmancharya? To not be owned and overrun by our stuff and schedules and lives. Rather, to be reminded that everything is actually sacred and meant to be enjoyed. When we overstuff, it makes us ill and it loses its enjoyment factor. Brahmancharya reminds us its really ok to set down all the expectations, the to-do lists, the plans, the clinging to the past. The breath is toxic if you hold it in too long. Unfortunately, sometimes we have to pass out before we rememebr to exhale. Its ok to let it go, to make room for whatever comes next.
Once again, I’m a stubborn child wanting my way and forgetting there’s always more at play. If I don’t get it on my own, life will have lessons along the way to help me finally understand. Its painful, but also beautiful once the tantrum is done and we see that what remains is complete reliance on God and each other.
***I KNOW this is not the reality for everyone. To those who are caring for the sick, the aged, those who continue to cook and stock our food and the shelves, the ones working the gas stations, post offices, keep our trash collected, making sure our banks and construction stays running, thank you. Now that I’m not playing taxi or yoga instructor, now that I’ve let go of attachment to my way (well, I’m still wrestling that one tbh), there is space again for writing and cooking—two of my favorite things! I hope you’ll keep reading along and hit me up if I can cook you something.