I had one of those yoga classes today that I just HATED.
Halfway through the class, I was just wishing evil on the teacher. I was so mad at her for ‘lying’, I was so mad at the class for not matching its description – my muscles were screaming, I was hot and I needed a scapegoat.
Around the halfway point, I had a little ‘aha’ moment.
I wasn’t mad at the teacher. I didn’t hate the class. All the teacher was doing was offering poses if you wanted to push yourself and further your practice.
I was the only one making myself do anything. If my muscles were screaming, I could just back off. It was pure ego that was preventing me from backing away.
So I backed off, and took it a bit easier on myself, and all of a sudden my whole perspective shifted.
The rest of the class I spent processing this revelation. Realizing that this is why I love yoga: it almost always can serve as a microcosm of life itself. A reflection of how you handle situations.
So many of us reach for a scapegoat the second something goes wrong. Someone to blame.
Sometimes there is no one to blame. Sometimes there is only ourselves to blame.
By the end of the class, I loved the teacher, and I can’t wait to go back.