Feb 21

Standing Out

Meditative Moments and Odd Occurrences (Part 2 of ???) – “Standing Out”

Last summer, when I registered for the recently completed silent retreats in Bodh Gaya, I volunteered to lead the morning yoga sessions. A response came back thanking me for the offer, but indicating that there are always multiple yoga teachers attending the retreats, so the teacher would be determined at the beginning of the retreat. My sensation at the time was one of relief. Good, I didn’t really want to be the yoga teacher anyway. I didn’t want to be “the” anything, just “a” or “an”. Another yogi embraced in the support of the sangha. Were that to have been the case, none of none of the following would have happened…

When the retreat started and I was asked to lead the yoga (largely because I was the only yoga teacher who had previously attended these retreats, so I was theoretically the most prepared for the experience) and I humbly accepted. Functionally, this was not a big deal, there was only one class a day (regularly I teach up to 4 per day), it was short (45 minutes the first 10 days, an hour the last 10 days) and there were no demanding expectations (just get everyone moving a little before a full day meditation). It was a great opportunity to help out, to contribute, and to give something back – all good intentions. However, it was also my chance to shine, to stand out, to show off, to impress, to feed an ever-hungry ego and to observe how good intentions are easily corrupted.

With my new roll came some privileges. I initially declined the offer of a private room. As one of the boys, I had always bunked in the basement of the temple and I did not want to abandon that camaraderie (even though I always suspected there were rats down there and that suspicion was repeatedly proven as the retreat progressed). However, when yogis started getting stung by bees from one of the three massive hives near the basement door and I recalled how severely I had reacted to my previous stings (both of which involved doctors, the latter had me on crutches), I felt the universe was telling me something and I accepted the upgrade. Of course, I got stung anyway. On the morning of day 15, after mindfully eating my morning fruit, while mindfully reading a book on mindfulness, I mindlessly sipped my lemon ginger drink that also happened to be hosting a bee practicing his backstroke. I will never know whether the bee was already dead and only pricked my tongue or if he got his dying chance to vent whatever angst a bee might hold against the world. Nor will I know if my immune system warded off the event naturally or if the antihistamine (Benedryl) I took on the advice of our resident nurse (Tracy) prevented significant problems. I do know that the drug wiped me out for most of the day. That was one of the rare days I did not practice yoga.

Being allowed to carve out time during the day’s schedule for my own yoga practice was the other privilege I inherited with my roll as yoga teacher (while this approval wasn’t technically necessary, it did relieve any guilt for missing sitting or walking sessions). These solo yoga sessions were absolutely great. Never in my years of teaching had I allowed myself three weeks of dedicated daily self-practice. It was fun and I was kicking my own ass on a daily basis. I slowed the breath so that each movement was patient but fluid. I held difficult postures mercilessly long, toyed with tricky balances and repeatedly attempted things I could not do well, if at all. I was getting myself in yoga shape (my body was getting stronger and my pants were getting looser). I was falling in love with yoga all over again. I was also showing off, desperately seeking attention (as others were frequently doing their walking or standing meditations as I was practicing). I was feeding my ego. The practice wasn’t wrong, but the intention wavered back and forth from healthy to ridiculously petty.

It didn’t help that the yoga classes were going very well. The positive feedback came from the teachers, the managers and via notes from the silent meditators. Each night, before retiring to my private room, the teachers would remind the sangha, “Yoga with Keith in the morning.” I was (at least in my own clouded mind) “the yoga guy” I had always wanted to be.

Some clarity came on the 11th day (the first day of the second retreat). There were new teachers (primarily Christopher Titmus – AKA the headliner) and the schedule had shifted a bit. Actually, the schedule shifted more than I suspected and I mistakenly missed Christopher’s first dharma talk to fit in my yoga practice. Upon realizing this, I tried to practice non-attachment. It’s only a dharma talk, right? But when the talk extended 10 then 20 minutes past it’s schedule end time it began to take on a much grander significance. Perhaps this was the best dharma talk ever. All the secrets of the spiritual life being explored and explained and I, “the yoga guy”, were missing it. Literally, standing out. Alone.

As the retreat continued, I looked deeper into this need (greed?) for attention and acknowledgement. Unfortunately, these unbecoming characteristics were not neatly contained in retreat, but everywhere in my life. It doesn’t help that success as a yoga instructor is effectively tied to my popularity. And, much of our western culture revolves around celebrating (and marketing too) the stand out individual. Nor, does it help to realize that I am not really standing out here. Mine are the same insecurities and delusions shared by many.

I wish it was as easily solved as seen, but there is always more work to be done.

…Keith