Detachment. And liver.

"Those whose consciousness is unified abandon all attachment to the results of action and attain supreme peace. But those whose desires are fragmented, who are selfishly attached to the results of their work, are bound in everything they do."
Bhagavad Gita

A few years ago, I recall preaching detachment to a good friend of mine who was training for a marathon.
Telling him that the whole point of living fruitfully is enjoying the process more than becoming overly concerned with the outcome, that surrendering to detachment would bring him a newfound appreciation for the present, and on and on...providing nothing short of another Ali-rant...
To which he responded, "I'm sorry Ali, but I don't enjoy the running, the entire time, the ENTIRE time, the only thought that crosses my mind is: "When? Will? This? End?"

While finishing a run or a race has always felt great and provided a huge sense of accomplishment, I was always one to love the actual process of running more than anything else. Even when I was on mile 11 of 13 and every muscle, bone and hair follicle hurt like hell, I’d remind myself that I was racing, that I was running free, that I was healthy, I’d look around at my surroundings, cheer for other runners, pretend to be racing against the person in front of me and scoot up next to her until I’d pass her (sometimes), I’d think of Magda and know that at that very moment, I was there, running free, without a care, and that she was running scared. And I’d run faster and harder, and push, and keep thinking about her until before I knew it I was on the last stretch of my run and I’d storm through the finish line, enjoying every single second as it happened.
Running always provided me with a perfect opportunity to practice detachment from outcomes and to let go of attachment altogether.
Because in the end, I had to go through the process in order to reach the result and truthfully, the end never belonged to me anyway.
It never really does.

Everything can change.

Or.
It can all stay the same.

The magic is that we never know.
And so isn’t attachment to outcomes counterproductive?

For most, including myself in more recent months, becoming detached from the result in important situations can be really, excruciatingly difficult.
Especially when those outcomes can change your whole life.

My question is, couldn’t ANY outcome essentially change your WHOLE life?

Think about it.
ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN.
AT ANY POINT.

If this is true (which it is) why is it SO hard to be detached?
Why are we so selfish and consumed with the product of our work? Why do we feel the need to hold on? To claim? To pronounce? Why do we feel the need to be certain? Why do we believe in faith? Why do we clench onto things so tightly? Why do we tear ourselves apart to make the right choices for “ourselves”? Why do we spend so much time watching ourselves agonize and argue and analyze and think?

The only answer I can come up with is…..
Fear.

Recently, a friend of mine asked me to name one thing that I’m afraid of.
(Like Spiders..not like a nuclear holocaust)
And of course, my brain automatically went to extremely frightening, deep-rooted, complicated thoughts as opposed to fear of eating certain foods, or jumping out of airplanes….
But after a while, I came up with the fact that if I had to choose one food that I can honestly say I’m afraid of eating, it would absolutely positively be liver.
I. Am. Most. Definitely. Afraid. Of. Liver.

Fear is a fucked up thing.
It is debilitating.
It is paralyzing.
It consumes.
And convinces.
It fights and fights making conquering it nearly impossible.
We all have it.
Most of us are guided by it.

I, personally, have a strong desire to kick it in the balls and watch it cower down in front of me as I have done in front of it so many times.
But, that’s just me.

So, how, does one kick said fear in the balls?
And doesn’t relinquishing attachment to the outcome go hand in hand with this task?

I mean, be cautious and use your brain….like, don’t go eating spiders, jumping off of an airplane, while telling your boss that you’re quitting your job and moving to Fiji, or anything….but I keep telling myself that if I detach (more than just a little), if I trust myself and my gut, and if I grow some balls (figuratively), then maybe conquering certain fears will become a reality.

For now….

I’ll consider the eating liver thing.

Yogi-Nemesis

So there's a yoga teacher at the shala that I have tried to avoid at all costs.

It's hard to put my finger on it, but I took her class a couple moths ago, and there is something....

…..something that just rubs me the wrong way about her.

To clarify, she is a great teacher.

Well versed in the asanas and the anatomy, has relevant and insightful spiritual topics that she touches on throughout the class, she smiles, plays good music, and laughs, and jokes, and encourages, and pushes.

Overall, she knows what she's doing and she fills her classes.

But there is this little nagging pinch inside of my stomach that tells me something....something is just not right between us.

And so ever since I stumbled upon her class, I have tried incredibly hard to avoid it.

I double, triple check the schedule to make sure I am not taking her class, I rearrange meetings and dates so that I can attend earlier or later classes, I wake up extra early and cancel important events so that I can intentionally take any other class that isn't hers.

Funny things happen when you try to avoid certain people.

I would say that nine out of ten times that I’ve tried to take another class, "she" would be subbing "at the last minute", or "covering because the assigned teacher was stuck in traffic", etc.

I would try excessively hard to stay away and somehow always found myself facing her.

Divine intervention.

Or something like that.

Reluctantly, I would stay and ignore the burning in my tummy. I'd focus on tending to my own practice while pushing aside the overwhelming feeling that made me want to start screaming and take off running  in the middle of class.

I came to the conclusion that something wanted me there…that there was a reason why I had to be in her class. There was something in her class I had to learn, something I had to hear her say…..there was a reason why I couldn’t get away from her.

It is believed that what we don’t like about others are the exact things we don’t like about ourselves.

That we see the reflection of our very own negative properties through other people.

It is also believed that every single person, whether you believe them to be positives or negatives are strategically placed in your life at the precise moment in order to remind you of a lesson- some important, others trivial, all of them vital.

“According to Plato, we don’t learn anything. Our soul has lived so many lives that we know everything. Teachers can only remind us of what we already know.”

Interesting.

So here I am, covered in sweat, and my yogi-nemesis teacher approaches me to tell me that my toe placement is wrong.

As every muscle in my body is shaking, as she has made us hold warrior III for what seems to be an eternity, and my quads burn like hell, she repeats “your toe placement is wrong….shift your weight forward.” I think: “I used to TEACH toe placement, lady, I know where my weight should be distributed, I know these things already, and I know my posture is fine.” And I can feel the burn from my thighs crawl up in through the lining of my stomach and the only thing I want to do is grab my mat, throw it at the wall and leave. Because I know….I am right.

As I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, beet red, legs shaking, arms shaking, I realize that my toes, are in fact, pushed too far back. And that I do, in fact, have to shift my weight forward.  Shit.

And in the matter of seconds, I realize that it is my very own arrogance that I am reflecting onto the way my teacher tells me to alter my pose. I swallow. Sweat drips from my nose.

As the redness dissipates from my face, I shift my weight forward, and my heart calms.

Just like that.

She is me. I am her.

This is the yoke, the connection.

Yoga.