The bit in the middle

“You left out the bit in the middle!”

“What?” I asked, startled by the question. I had been fumbling nervously in front of the class, trying to set up my towel, rambling on about resolutions, being brave, feeling nervous, and the notes I had spent the entire day before writing up. My hands were shaking.

“You told us the beginning, and the end, but you left out the middle,” said my student.

Suddenly I snapped back to the present moment.

Of course, I had left out the middle! I was so caught up in my mind, bouncing between thoughts of past and future, talking myself out of what just yesterday I was certain I had to do, that I completely missed the middle.  Because now was the middle.

I became aware of my body — the heat of the room, the air in my lungs breath, the beating of my heart. I took a mental step back and became aware of my mind — the senseless to-ing and fro-ing from past to future. And then I took another step back and felt myself settle into a place of complete calm, child-like joy, and infinite possibility — into the YOU behind the You behind the you. 

It was time to fly.

Playing it safe

Since I started teaching yoga, I have focussed on anatomy, physiology, alignment and technique.  I love those things!  The science, the facts, the (mostly) predictable cause and effect – it’s all so fascinating and comforting at the same time. I loved sharing all of this knowledge with my students. Many of them told me how helpful it was, and it was great to watch their practice progress as they learned more about their bodies. But through it all, I always felt like I was holding back the best bit. 

Every now and then I would get brave and flirt with the topic of “mind”.  A few times I talked about noticing our thoughts, the language we use when we talk to ourselves, and the beliefs we hold about what we can and can’t do. Once I got really brave and suggested there may be more going on between our body and mind than just basic motor skills and muscle contraction.  

But I never took it further. I played it safe.  

I was afraid to talk about the part of this practice that I find endlessly fascinating. The part that makes my heart feel full. The part that 30 years on, I still can’t get enough of.

You only get two lives

We have two lives, and the second begins when we realize we only have one.

-Confucius

Awareness, consciousness, soul, spirit, Being, the YOU behind the You behind the you — whatever you want to call it — I’ve always felt there was something more to it all. I’ve spent most of my life reading, learning, and practising ways to listen to the body, observe the mind, and connect with that deep inner sense of knowing that this life is just a small piece of an unimaginably bigger and more magnificent event. Sharing that knowledge with others is a path my life has brought me to over and over again. I’ve found myself standing in front of that doorway more times than I can remember. And I’ve walked away. Every. Single. Time.

But this Sunday was different. I was different. 

At New Year I committed to leaving behind all the things that didn’t serve me. Letting my mind run the show was at the top of that list. 

Stood on the podium I realised I had only one life, and that life was happening right NOW.

So I did the only thing I could – I went all in. You can read about it here and here.

What happens now?

I experienced an important lesson that morning. I found that when we focus our awareness on the present moment, the now, all those thoughts about the past and future that keep us from moving forward, vanish. It turns out they are just the mind doing what the mind does. 

None of it actually exists in the “now”.

That presentation I bombed years ago, about that software system… That was 15 years ago. In another county. None of those people are here now. I’m not even talking about the same subject now. So, why would “now” be anything like “then”? 

And that fear of “What if they don’t like it? What if they think I’m crazy? What if I ….!?” The mind is such a drama queen. They didn’t chase me out of the studio. I’m not crazy. I didn’t die.

What did happen is that the paralysing fear and anxiety based on past memories and imagined futures, momentarily ceased to exist. What was left, was pure and exquisite joy. For a brief moment, I got to live in this world as my authentic self and to experience a deeply nourishing sense of meaning and purpose. 

Since that experience, my life feels lighter. I’m laughing more. I’m noticing more colours in the sunrise. The crisp winter air smells just a little bit fresher. Of course, I still have the same problems and the same worries — but it feels like there’s a bit more space between me and them. And of course, I still regularly get lost in my own thoughts — but I’m finding my way out sooner. I’m realising how memories of what has been and fears of what might be have been keeping me from the infinite joy that has been waiting right here and now this whole time.