Seeing Myself in the Other Person

I have been told that what bothers me most about another person is what I need to work on myself. It is a mirror reflecting back to me what I don't want to see. That is not a comfortable thought. Like most worthwhile undertakings, there is powerful value in exploring this truth.

I hate when people constantly complain. I just want to get away from them. I cannot wait to vent to Pete or to my journal. Why dwell in negativity and complaining about what we don’t like when there is so much to like and be grateful. How about I think about that?

A few months ago, I got an email newsletter from Oprah about keeping a gratitude journal. She introduced this on her show and enthusiastically shared how it changed her life, so I have been hearing about this for years. This time it clicked. I wrote that I am grateful for my marriage, our family and our home. The gratitude writing grew with each day, as I found new things to include in my journal; my Nana’s rosary, a fun dinner with friends, my grandchildren’s artwork, on and on.  Then I would see little miracles happening that absolutely thrilled me! A child in the store saying hi really loud while the mom smiled, a little embarrassed and a little proud. The cashier making eye contact with me smiling and talking. My yoga teacher telling me my utthita parsvakonasana was beautiful.  I could not wait to share with Pete and write in my gratitude journal.  

One day an old friend called me, and I was so happy to hear from her. Then she started complaining about her job and her co-workers, people I never met. I listened, and understood her frustration with the office. It’s not easy dealing with so many different personalities and agendas. I knew this from my own experiences, so I could relate. After talking for a while, she calmed down and we talked about happier things. We made plans to get together soon, and she thanked me for listening. It was not until I hung up that I realized the act of complaining didn’t trigger me.

So what about when I am so upset by someone, I do not see myself in them at all? All I know is the pain inflicted. That is when this exercise is most challenging, and offers the greatest breakthroughs. This is when true forgiveness becomes available.

I have been robbed, and I knew the person that did it. This person was consumed by addiction, and stole to feed that yen. This former friend betrayed my trust and cared more for a high than me; that is all I saw. I could not see myself in that person. I only saw what I didn't want. Many, many years later, I understand more than that. Excavating my own conscience, I have found where I have been selfish and disregarded others. I have reflected on times when I turned my back on what I had to get what I want. It felt ugly.

Though the surface was different extremes, we shared the same origin. We both were desperate for happiness. We both searched outside of ourselves to possess it. Now that I understand that, I can forgive it. Now that I find happiness within, I am not as attached to what I have or lack. 

Does that mean I’m fixed? Nope. I continue to work on myself. I don’t always succeed. I learn from each fall I take, and I sure do fall a lot. Giving me that space to fail and to learn is the simple act of kindness I allow for myself. When I forgive myself, it’s easy to forgive others their imperfections. We all have them.

On the other side of that, if I can relate to people’s shortcomings, I can also relate to their virtues. Each one of has intrinsic worth. When I think of the people that I admire, I get a “wow” feeling for what they bring to the world; whether it’s a musician’s intriguing interpretation of a classic piece or the teacher that I cannot wait for her class all week. The truth is I have the same capacity to create beauty, joy and inspiration in the world around me as they do.

And so do you.

Up Side Down

I have recently noticed that I’m not the only one to balk when the teacher says “now we’re going to work on our handstands.” Fear rises up instantly, washing over me with a kinetic sting. Other yoga poses are rooted from everyday positions; standing, sitting and laying down. From a natural foundation, I feel safe to explore my strength, balance, and flexibility. Placing my hands where my feet should be feels very unstable. I run from that feeling.

I have never been one to be daring. I won’t go on roller coasters. The truth is that many things I have counted on as stable have proven otherwise. There were moments when my world had turned upside down, and I froze. I would stick my head in the sand, as my mom says. As a matter of course, eventually I would adapt to my new normal. Just moving forward took all my courage.

When I first began my yoga practice, I would go to class to escape. Eventually I discovered that there is no escaping my physical challenges or the thoughts in my head. Practicing yoga, they are confronted then and there. I notice how I feel when I fall out of my balancing poses. I notice my thoughts judging my failure. I try again.

And now it’s time for handstands.

I notice my mind either screams “no” or sometimes just “I’m not in the mood.” The handstand is a fascinating pose. The teacher can make it look so effortless and buoyant. I’m not comfortable going to that extreme. It’s not my nature. I feel clumsy and weak. I’d much rather feel regal and powerful in my warrior pose, thank you.

Recently, I had the opportunity to do a handstand away from the wall with the teacher assisting. Even though I trusted her, I was still terrified of falling. That unstable sensation was very present. And so was I! My entire body was working hard to hold the pose. The teacher guided my attention to my form, empowering my control. My hands, my shoulders, my core, my legs, my feet were all engaged. When I finally released into child’s pose, I felt differently. My only thoughts were “I did it!” and “That was fun!”

Then I remembered that each time I worked on handstands, afterwards I always felt better. Better about myself and better about the world around me. Going upside down definitely shakes up my perception. I gain new awareness of the room, the world, and even myself. Not only is that a good thing, I need it every once in a while.

So I have decided to incorporate some ventures off the mat as well. No roller coasters yet, but little pushes to expand my boundaries of comfort and safety. I took an art class, painting for the first time since grade school. I choose to go on my own, without using anyone as a crutch. I didn't initiate any conversations, but I enjoyed painting and sharing the space with these people. Next time I’ll push a little further.

Recently in a yoga class, when the teacher said the word "handstand," there was a hum of groans while I squeaked in delight (sometimes I squeak). I don’t always enjoy handstands, and sometimes I’m really not in the mood. Yet each time I practice, pushing my comfort level further, I shift a little bit higher.