Expectant Voice

Expectations. It’s a big theme that’s been coming up lately for me today. What people expect of me, how I respond to them. What do I feel when I meet them. What do I feel when I don’t. As much as dislike expectations and try to subvert them, the strength of my emotion proves how much hold they have on me. And, as is usually the case, the reason they have such a hold on me is the expectations I have on myself. Among the many things I’m working on, I’m working on separating myself from my yammering Voice. You know the one with all the expectations and the judgments. I’m not always the best at catching her in the act, but when I’m getting better at it.

I will probably end up addressing this topic again, but I’ll start with a simple example from my yoga mat. I am a pretty flexible person. I backbend with ease and can (almost) manage the splits. But I struggle with tight hips. For this reason, half pigeon pose and I are old rivals. My front leg is never quite perpendicular to my body, my hips are rarely even and I never know where to put a block or blanket where it will actually help me. I usually can manage somehow fold over my front leg and lie there breathing raggedly until it’s suggested we might release. Today as we lay folded over, my lovely yoga teacher. This was agony for me. I would rather have been anywhere but there. On my mat, my hips yelling at me, as I failed to do this silly pigeon twist that I SHOULD be able to do.

That word. Should. It has no place on my mat (or really anywhere in my life). Where did I pick up this expectation that I needed to do this pose? I could try to blame my teacher, but did he really expect me to do anything in class? No, he’s not that kind of guy. Did the girl next to me? No, she was blissed out because she could easily pretzel her way into this move. Did the lady across the room? Nope. She was just content to be propped up on blocks and blankets without folding over at all. Sigh. It was all me. Me and the Voice who said something like “You’ve been doing yoga for two years. This is a pretty basic pose. Why can’t you do this? Oh, and Crow. For where you are with your other poses, you should’ve be able to do this and Crow a YEAR ago. This is embarrassing. Oh, let me bring up something else you should be able to do….”

It was just about then when another, smaller voice piped up. “So what?” It said.  The Voice stopped. She got flustered. And suddenly, peacefully quiet.

Loosening Judgment

Saturday morning yoga. After not sleeping much the night before, I wasn’t looking forward to it. But it’s a ritual for me that I seldom miss unless I’m out of town and I’m always glad for it afterwards. Afterwards, but not necessarily during.

My instructor is wonderful. A very conscious, spiritual man with a great sense of humor and a sassy streak. I try to remember this while he pokes and prods at me (he would use the term “adjusts”) during my asanas. I’ve never met anyone who made a simple crescent lunge so hard. “Make sure your knee doesn’t kick in and tracks over your toes.” “Strong through your core, tailbone to the floor.”” Keep those ribs in, they’re splaying out.” “Shoulders down the back. Activate those arms and roll that back leg inward.” “Oh and bend that knee deeper while you’re at it. I know you can.” “Breathe.” One pose down. Thirty or so to go.

I wish I could say I took this all with grace. But truth be told, yoga is more than just the physical practice for me. Getting in and out of poses, no matter how challenging are almost easier than the mental gymnastics I go through during the 90 minute session. There is a lot of frustration and self judgment I have to contend with. That inner Voice that makes up these crazy rules and expectations is never more vocal than when I’m the focus of someone else’s attention. Being watched only ratchets up the volume of my self talk.

But this is why I go to yoga. Because what shows u

p in yoga shows up in my life. Where better to practice letting go of my demons and strengthening my flabby self compassion muscle than on my mat?