Saturday, September 14, 2013

The Lessons Before Us

 
 
Last weekend as I attended Bhakti Fest in Joshua Tree, CA I was once again reminded that my own personal practice can be found anywhere I look.  Whatever it is that pushes my buttons is what seems to show up to do just that...push some buttons and test how I'm doing.
  
I didn't recognize them as lessons at first.  During the musical set by Donna DeLory, I made my way right to the front of the dancing area with a friend of mine and began to sway and sing along to the music.  Half way through her set, I noticed a guy just behind me.  I smelled him before I heard him.  He had that smell of camping at a yoga festival, not offensive, but definitely recognizable.  It didn't knock me out of my reverie until he started talking louder than I liked in what seemed to be directly into my ear.  At that point it became annoying.  Although I hadn't yet realized that I was being presented a lesson, I still managed to take a deep breath, turn back to the stage and continue dancing and singing. 
  
If you've never been to Bhakti Fest it goes something like this.  You bring a blanket and/or low chair, place it somewhere in front of the main stage and when you're watching an act you occupy that space.  When you head away, it is suggested that people are welcome to sit in your seats.  When you return, you reclaim your chair.  Easy. 
 
So, I headed away to a class and returned to my spot to see a guy sitting in one of my chairs.  No big deal I'm thinking as I can maybe meet someone new.  I sit down directly next to him and he makes no attempt to connect with me.  No eye contact.  No nod of the head.  Nothing.  Just staring straight ahead.  I lean over and say, "Hi!  Comfortable?" which he ignores.  I am now confronted with lesson number two.
  
Initially, I begin a soft boil, gently thinking to myself, "how rude, how un-yoga like etc.,".  Then I catch myself and start sending him the vibe of love and light, love and light, love and light.  In that moment, he may not have changed, but I did.  I softened.  I began to let go of my need for things to be a particular way.  Well maybe just a little bit.
  
The third lesson also happened in front of the main stage where a group of my girlfriends and I were up and dancing to some artist.  We were in our space, enjoying the rhythmic harmony of hanging out with friends.  Then this older gentleman maneuvers his way right next to me.  He's dancing his heart out and in the process is working up quite the sweat as he enthusiastically swings his elbows about, as though he's making his way through a crowded bus aisle.  Not only am I getting sweat bumped onto my arms, but I'm now concerned that I'm going to get elbowed in the gut.  The annoyance begins to arise once again.  Things aren't going as I want them to be going.  I get pulled out of my connection to the music and vibe and into the chatter of my own agitation.
  
All of these interactions began to raise the light of my awareness that what needed to change was not the behavior of other people, people whom I have no control over, but to alter my reaction to the situation.  That is the one thing that I can control, how I react in certain situations, even when my buttons are getting pushed, my agitation is rising and I want things to stop and play according to my rules.
  
Breathe in.  Release.  Send love and light.  The shift was amazing and the antics of others became more entertaining than annoying.
The lessons are everywhere.  Are you seeing yours?

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