Yesterday in yoga I was so patient with myself in forward head to knee pose. I had been traveling for a week, so my practice wasn't as consistent as it usually is. When I came out of the backbend, I folded forward ever so slowly. I was so aware that my body had to be treated gently in this move after spending hours on my trip driving. I remember being so attentive to my hamstring muscles as my fingertips reached for the floor. When I began to walk my knees back and forth, I took care to pause on each side and fully stretch until my knee locked. Then when the teacher said, "Grab you heels" I reached down and took extra care with setting up the pose. As I touched my face to my shins, I remember complimenting myself for being so patient and not rushing into the pose, and another thought struck me as I locked my knees for the final stretch: I am so patient with myself here in yoga, and yet when it comes to God, who is all knowing, telling me to "be still", I have no patience with Him. I actually start telling Him what I want and when I want it by.
As I left the studio, I was still amazed with the audacity I had to tell an omnipotent God what to do. I always saw myself as "God's Assistant", but for some reason He refuses to see it that way. Reflecting on my journey of the past three months, I now realized I haven't crossed the finish line yet. I have a mantra that says "just be a vehicle for the spirit", I have practiced listening in silence, and, in my head I know that when we pray the answer isn't always yes.
God has always been my life coach. When the rough patches hit, He sits on the edge of the bed when the tears come in the middle of the night. He rides shotgun as I cry and drive. He walks beside me each afternoon to the convenience store and along the beach as the tears squeeze out from under my sunglasses. Over the years, in His dealings with me, He has always allowed me a little free will in confronting life's difficulties. It was like riding a bicycle- I'd get to swerve right or left, but eventually He'd see me back to the path, but I had a little say in the journey. But now, for the first time, He has rendered me powerless. He took the bike away, and now I am on a moving sidewalk, such as those in an airport. I can walk only straight ahead. And if I refuse to move, He pushes me along anyway. This time He is not merely suggesting that I surrender complete control, He is demanding it. Once again the hardest thing for me to do is nothing. I have not yet mastered this.
How coincidental that Bikram says the the hardest part of the whole 90 minute yoga class is the two minute savasana – lying in dead body pose, perfectly still, without thinking of anything but our breath, not wiping sweat or fidgeting with our clothing. Inside the studio, complete surrender to the posture. Outside the studio, for me, complete surrender to God. No fidgeting with my thoughts and words, no wiping away my tears.
Thank goodness God is more patient with me than I am with Him. The moving sidewalk is a tough road to walk, but I know it is the right place for me right now. I also know that when I reach the end of it, I will truly know the meaning of "Be still and know that I am God". I also know I will be a different person and view many things through a new lens. But in the meantime I will continue to give God a hard time and when I try to help Him in his office, he'll just point to the moving sidewalk.
And so, as another day goes by, sometimes true clarity and hard lessons take two days, and….for two days, I have written.
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