As I think I've mentioned before, one of the things I dislike about writing a blog about yoga and music and stuff is that it tends to come off as preachy. It's probably because of my writing style, but most of the time I think it would be really nice if I blogged about something I've figured out. Like, hey, look, I didn't used to be able to do a headstand but now I can and here is how I got there and you can do it too if you just have faith! Sadly, I've found life to be a little more complicated, and issues that I'm really working on are definitely more of the revolving door-type rather than open-and-shut.
Case in point: patience.
I used to be patient. Really, ask my mom (although maybe she remembers my childhood differently than I do). Here's an example: when we'd get a treat after dinner, say, an ice-cream cone, I would save mine until the kitchen was clean and all obligations for the evening were finished, climb with it to the top of the swingset, and consume it in the sunset while watching my shadow on the brick side of the house. Vivid, huh? I have great memories of Patient Me. I would do this with every aspect of my life. I happily worked on my (home)school work one page at a time, trusting that baby steps would produce some latent math genius in my own brain (hah). When I was sixteen I decided that I was too inflexible, so I started a persistent stretching routine that enabled me to touch my toes for the first time since I was in the womb. I had total faith that if I worked hard, a little bit at a time, I could be good at anything. And maybe that's true.
Then, I don't know what happened, but I grew up. And sometime between high-school and college and grad school, I started losing the calmness that I used to have about mastering a task. I started worrying that I wasn't "cut out" for the life I'd chosen, as if being a good flute player is a destiny rather than a lifetime of hard work. I assaulted people in my life with questions like "do you think I'll ever be good enough?" as if that was going to be determined by anybody but me.
I have no idea why I started worrying about predestination, but it ended up making me lazy. Looking back, I think I was testing myself, seeing if I could slide by on minimal practice because then I would "know" that I was "meant" to be a "flute player." I stopped working slowly and patiently, and started emulating my peers by procrastinating, cramming, and complaining when I was called out on my work not being up to snuff. And although the current university system fosters that kind of behavior (a blog post for another time?) it was nobody's fault but my own. I extended this negligence to other areas of my life: I stopped going to the gym and started "rewarding" myself with gobs of food, then complained when I gained weight. I stopped maintaining friendships and was surprised when I had fewer people to call. I stopped practicing yoga regularly and was upset when I lost flexibility and focus.
And this is the part where I should say, "but for $9.95 you can buy my book, and we'll throw in a free energy shot! You too can regain your motivation and the excellence for which patience is so necessary!" Well, sorry, I'm still figuring it out. Some days are better than others. Most of the time I have to keep reminding myself that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step (and is made up of millions of single steps) and not get too freaked out when I don't see the end right away. Here are some other things I've been telling myself:
Just because something is hard doesn't mean it's not worth doing.
Just because I don't succeed at something right away doesn't mean I wasn't meant to succeed.
People who are good at things often work really, really hard behind the scenes. They didn't magically get good.
Ultimately a big part of me believes that some things are "meant to be," and that sometimes makes it hard to force my way through a difficult task while my brain screams "you weren't supposed to succeed!! It was determined at the beginning of time/your lunch hour!!" So that's another obstacle, and another thing with which I'm currently struggling.
But if there weren't any obstacles, how would we learn to be patient?
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Case in point: patience.
I used to be patient. Really, ask my mom (although maybe she remembers my childhood differently than I do). Here's an example: when we'd get a treat after dinner, say, an ice-cream cone, I would save mine until the kitchen was clean and all obligations for the evening were finished, climb with it to the top of the swingset, and consume it in the sunset while watching my shadow on the brick side of the house. Vivid, huh? I have great memories of Patient Me. I would do this with every aspect of my life. I happily worked on my (home)school work one page at a time, trusting that baby steps would produce some latent math genius in my own brain (hah). When I was sixteen I decided that I was too inflexible, so I started a persistent stretching routine that enabled me to touch my toes for the first time since I was in the womb. I had total faith that if I worked hard, a little bit at a time, I could be good at anything. And maybe that's true.
Then, I don't know what happened, but I grew up. And sometime between high-school and college and grad school, I started losing the calmness that I used to have about mastering a task. I started worrying that I wasn't "cut out" for the life I'd chosen, as if being a good flute player is a destiny rather than a lifetime of hard work. I assaulted people in my life with questions like "do you think I'll ever be good enough?" as if that was going to be determined by anybody but me.
I have no idea why I started worrying about predestination, but it ended up making me lazy. Looking back, I think I was testing myself, seeing if I could slide by on minimal practice because then I would "know" that I was "meant" to be a "flute player." I stopped working slowly and patiently, and started emulating my peers by procrastinating, cramming, and complaining when I was called out on my work not being up to snuff. And although the current university system fosters that kind of behavior (a blog post for another time?) it was nobody's fault but my own. I extended this negligence to other areas of my life: I stopped going to the gym and started "rewarding" myself with gobs of food, then complained when I gained weight. I stopped maintaining friendships and was surprised when I had fewer people to call. I stopped practicing yoga regularly and was upset when I lost flexibility and focus.
And this is the part where I should say, "but for $9.95 you can buy my book, and we'll throw in a free energy shot! You too can regain your motivation and the excellence for which patience is so necessary!" Well, sorry, I'm still figuring it out. Some days are better than others. Most of the time I have to keep reminding myself that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step (and is made up of millions of single steps) and not get too freaked out when I don't see the end right away. Here are some other things I've been telling myself:
Just because something is hard doesn't mean it's not worth doing.
Just because I don't succeed at something right away doesn't mean I wasn't meant to succeed.
People who are good at things often work really, really hard behind the scenes. They didn't magically get good.
Ultimately a big part of me believes that some things are "meant to be," and that sometimes makes it hard to force my way through a difficult task while my brain screams "you weren't supposed to succeed!! It was determined at the beginning of time/your lunch hour!!" So that's another obstacle, and another thing with which I'm currently struggling.
But if there weren't any obstacles, how would we learn to be patient?
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