Stealing from Yourself

During class this morning, Erik, the instructor, focused our attention on the yama of Asteya.  Asteya is the principle of non-stealing.  Now, there are obvious implications to this form of self-restraint.  We should not steal others’ belongings; we should not steal others’ ideas; we should not take more than we need.  But, my thoughts went to the less obvious forms of stealing that we engage in and should avoid.  We should not steal attention or admiration due to jealousy.  We should not steal the self-esteem of others by belittling or degrading them.  We should not steal the good name of others through libel or slander.  And, we should not steal from ourselves.

What do we steal from ourselves?  Well, I know that, in my case, sometimes I steal from myself the opportunity to change or grow.  W.E.B. Du Bois is quoted as saying:

The most important thing to remember is this: To be ready at any moment to give up what you are for what you might become.

But, do most of us do this?  I suspect we do not.  When we are very little, and the world of opportunity seems open before us, we allow ourselves to change and grow with every moment.  As we get older, we start to learn the expectations that others have of us (based on factors like gender, socioeconomic status, race, ethnicity, family role, etc.) and begin to let those expectations box us into a narrow range of possibility.

Over time, having learned to believe that our possibilities are limited, we begin to stop even trying anything new.  But, once we do this, we fall into a rut of being, where the self cannot grow.  Growth requires change, and risk taking. This stealing of opportunity and growth from ourselves may sometimes be about relatively minor things – we refuse to try new food, because we already “know” that we won’t like it – or major life choices – we don’t apply for a job that we desire, because we are certain that we will not be hired.  We may not acknowledge to ourselves why we aren’t taking these risks, and come up with excuses for remaining the same (“I don’t have time to take that art class,”  “yoga classes are too expensive,” “I don’t have enough patience to get a degree”), but often the underlying reason is a fear of failure, because we have learned to box ourselves and our opportunities in, and believe that we cannot succeed outside of that box.

After my yoga practice today, I reflected that I often steal from myself the opportunity to grow in my practice by assuming that I cannot succeed at a particular pose.  This was true of wheel pose when I first began yoga.  I wouldn’t even try it, because it seemed impossible.  Now, having prodded myself into taking the risk, I still feel remnants of the

Image from yoga-guru.info

“I can’t” belief every time the pose comes up in class.    More recently, I struggled with forcing myself to give inversions a try.  I practiced yoga for a few years before I ever tried to get into handstand or headstand, even with the help of a wall.  While I’m still working on those poses, and still feel some degree of fear about them, I also have learned that I love inversions.  If I had continued to steal that opportunity from myself, I never would have realized this.  Now I need to work on arm balance… I have a tendency to immediately go mentally to a “I’m not strong enough” place when arm balance poses appear in the practice.  But, I know that I have to give myself this opportunity or I’ll never know what may happen, so I’m working on pushing those negative and constraining thoughts away.

What opportunities do you steal from yourself by assuming you cannot succeed?

A Glimpse of the Possible…

Today started in a typical Wednesday way with a yoga class.  I was a little apprehensive about it, because the usual instructor is on maternity leave and a yogi that I had been in classes with was taking over.  I knew he was very strong and flexible from observing him in class (yep, when I’m supposed to be paying attention only to me), so I wasn’t sure that I would be able to catch up.  I’ve also been a little off lately physically, with a buggered up knee/foot and some extra fatigue.  But, I pushed aside my excuses (barely) and headed for class.

I’m not going to tell you that it was my best class ever; it wasn’t.  I was pretty stiff and not very agile and finding it not always easy to keep up with the rapid pace and still have any sense of form at all.  And yet, right in the middle of class, upside down with my hands on the floor and my feet on the wall (picture a wobbly upside down L), I found myself grinning like some sort of loon, happy as could be about what my body could do – even in the face of what it couldn’t.  I wasn’t completing any pose perfectly, and some were far from the goal, but I was there and breathing and trying and it felt good.

Wouldn’t it be great to always be in that place – to just live in the body and enjoy what it can do and be instead of critiquing what it is not?  It’s a possible that seems truly wonderful to me.  And, having read a recent article that indicated that exercise probably isn’t good for weight loss (and may even cause some gain), perhaps this is part of the true value of finding some sort of physical activity that speaks to you.  When we engage in a physical effort that we enjoy – much like children skipping or playing hopscotch – we appreciate our bodies for what they are and can do, instead of depreciating them for what they are not and can’t.  In a culture where the female (and to larger and larger degrees, the male) body is primarily viewed from an external stance as an object of viewing pleasure, anything that pulls us out of that framework and pushes us to love our bodies, each unique and wonderful and valuable and accomplished, has to be a good thing.

My body-happy moment is yoga.  What is yours?