Ganga White's poem
sets the tone for the trauma-informed training hosted at the Samadhi Yoga
Center in Denver, CO.
***
“Gift wrapped,
please.”
Gift wrapped.
The polite
request I dread to hear.
I inwardly
cringe as I stand behind the cash register and feel like Buddy the Elf as I
force a wide grin.
“Yeah! Of
course!”
Please, I pray,
if there is a Buddy the Elf come rescue me NOW!
I glance down
at the curly creature of a coat that reminds me of the snipped remains of a
golden doodle’s mane.
How am I going
to gift wrap this hulk of fuzz?
Silent panic
ensues.
Unlike me, my
inner critic excels at gift wrapping. The perceived challenge prompts her to
leap to center stage. She whips and whirls and triple-knots familiar narratives
dramatizing my inadequacies, tangling up my mind with fear and blocking me from
clarity.
There is though
a slither of space in between the ribbons of anxiety for an illuminated truth
from Denver to resurface and soothe:
Find refuge in the body.
I step back
from the swirling mess of narratives and feel back into the body.
I find the
breath. The breath finds me. I breathe. I feel the discomfort and instead of
escaping into racing narratives, I stay with the anxiety burgeoning across my
chest.
Befriend the discomfort. Breathe.
I slow down my
movements, becoming mindful of the touch of the credit card in my fingers as I
finish the payment, the cushioned padding beneath my feet, the rustle of keys
as a coworker walks away to unlock the jewelry case.
The breath
slows, steady and smooth. I watch the reaction, and in the watching there’s
space for mindful thinking to solve the gift wrapping dilemma.
“How do you react to challenge?”
The question
posed during a long-ass held humble
warrior pose.
Profanities and
sweat drop onto the mat.
Heat builds in
my cheeks. I think they could pop. My thighs rage in a fiery burn.
In the throes
of challenge, of staying close to the breath in moments of extreme intensity,
the initial reaction is to check out of the physical experience and dive into
scapegoating with judgment, criticism, anger, blame.
She’s holding us here too long.
The teacher is
the lead facilitator of the trauma-informed yoga training. She’s magnetic,
lively, grounded, talented. She walks into the training emanating a natural
ease, a confidence rooted in compassion, and her voice is clear, like sunlight,
her words concise and catchy, drawing the room of yogis close and closer to
listen and receive the wisdom of trauma-informed teaching.
I know I am in
the presence of a true teacher. I respect and admire her. And right now,
though, in this super long hold (meaning, the yogis hold the pose for a stretch
of 10-20 breaths), my ego-driven mind is flipping her the bird. (But please,
don’t take it personally.)
“How do you react
when there’s challenge?” she repeats, and stops to stand by my mat, as if she’s
in tune to my chatty mind begging and angrily protesting this paused part of
the flow.
“Because how
you react to challenge here on the mat is a good indicator to how you react to
challenges and stresses off the mat.”
In the fire of
intense sensation in this humble warrior one pose, the breath is still
accessible and deep. There’s an aha,
an epiphany singing and revealing the truth behind the reaction.
I retaliate
with anger. I push back with blame. I jump back away from the experience with
fear.
And in my
reaction I forget that I have the power to advocate. I react with fear because
my skills in self-advocacy are weak. They just need to be stretched and
strengthened.
And
self-advocacy, self-trust can be stretched and strengthened here in this humble
warrior one.
The reaction reveals the pain point.
Humble warrior
pose is a standing forward fold, positioning the sacred wisdom of the heart
above the head. An invitation to let the wisdom of the heart center govern the
mind.
I find refuge
in the body. I breathe. I trust that when my body informs me that it is time to
leave the pose – when the breath is no longer steadily available and sensation
leans toward sharp and harsh – then I trust myself to know when it is time to
go.
Oh. A lesson
learned on the mat illuminating the reaction off the mat.
The customer
asks for the coat gift wrapped.
I’m fearful of
making a mistake. I’m angry she asked. I’m looking for someone else to blame.
Find refuge in
the body.
I practice
humble warrior here – in the hustle and bustle of the boutique. I do not have
to be great at every aspect of this job. I just need to show up, do the best I
can do, and gently and honestly respond with compassion and integrity.
I ask for help.
I leave the coat in the hands of superb gift wrapper and watch to take note.
Later, I slip
upstairs for lunch. I sit on the back porch, listen to the leaves, bask in
sunlight.
The silence
fills me up.
I unpack the
gift wrapping scenario. Breathe to cleanse the residue from the reaction.
The reaction
reveals the pain point.
The line
repeated throughout the trauma-informed training.
The line
repeated as I interact with customers at the boutique – the stressed customer
wanting the gift receipt, the mother searching for a winter formal gown for her
daughter, the friends drinking wine as they try on jeans – my reactions and
responses to them, and their reactions and responses to me can all be received
with compassion.
I’ll never know the complexity of their story. And slowly I am beginning to see the intricate weavings of mine. My reactions are daily. So the micro-healings are daily.
All micro and
macro-reactions are signals for deeper healing. The anger, blame, criticism,
judgment of others, of self, stems from a grief yet to be grieved.
And when I sit
with the grief, the wails that need to be heard, the fears that need to be met
with kindness and grace, there’s a gradual opening of space for lightness, for
the present, for expansion.
The fearful
reaction from asking the coat to be gift wrapped lifts up a grief that I carry
– that I am not good enough, that I am not enough, that my differences in
skillsets and talents are not valued, and the experiences circling those
narratives linger in my body.
“Baby, healing is an ongoing process.”
She cradles my
hands, and for a moment, she takes the weight of my questions about staying or
leaving, on purpose and place.
This moment
alone is enough. A healing moment from Denver that continues to ripple across
time and cradle me in softness.
This
conversation with a spirited light-worker affirms the magnetic yes pulling me to travel to Denver for
the trauma-informed yoga training. And trauma-informed yoga is truly
people-informed yoga.
Healing is an
ongoing process.
On the mat, off
the mat, in Denver and in Austin, at the boutique, and here under the trees.
A series of
moments continuing to ripple and rise and rinse a heart clean.
I lean into the
sun, the wind, and breathe. I find refuge in the body. I stay closer to my
center by staying present with what is.
I know under my
feet that the boutique is in full swing. There are coats and jewelry-holder
cacti waiting to be gift wrapped, and there are lessons in compassion, in
unconditional compassion, in deeper healing waiting there too, to be lovingly
wrapped with a bow and bright pink tissue.
***
November Tunes:
*You
Can’t Rush Your Healing – Trevor Hall
*So
Close – Tom Misch
*Saved –
Khalid
*Don’t
Move – Phantogram
*High
On Humans – Oh Wonder
*1998 –
Chet Faker
*Plans –
Oh Wonder
*Deliverance
– RY X
*The
Woods – Daughter
