Plugging In

If you asked me exactly a week ago whether I thought I was living an authentic life I would have answered with a resounding yes. Or maybe a “duh.” I have a job that I love, live in a city that I choose to live in, have friends and family that I adore, am happy and grateful. What more could there possibly be?

Hm…well…a lot. For starters.

I spent the last five days in the first part of the Anusara yoga immersion. In other words, I spent the last five days plugging in to who I am and doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. What I discovered on the other end of this experience is that when I tune into who I am, everything I thought to be true gets flipped on its head.

Although I had wanted to do these immersions for several years, I put them off. I even registered for one last spring and I put it off. I put them off because I was afraid that if I jumped off the fancy treadmill I’ve established in my life, even for just a few days, everything would fall apart. Sure, I was afraid I’d fall behind in work. But more importantly, I was afraid that by taking the time to turn inward—to pursue something that requires a great deal of awareness and self-study—I wouldn’t be able to jump back on the treadmill with the same gusto. I was afraid that I’d notice some cracks in my life that I’d rather keep speeding past.

You know what? I was right. Each and every one of those fears was realized. But you know what else? I’m so glad they were. I learned from this experience that if I really examine those cracks closely, they’re only spaces for light to shine though. They’re opportunities waiting for me to acknowledge them so I can grow and improve with them.

Let me take a moment to come back down to earth and provide a concrete example of what I’m blathering about. All of those gifts that I listed up top—awesome job, great city, fantastic family, happiness—are true. Even so, what the heck did I ever do with them? When I’d walk into Whole Foods, did I ever really take the time to acknowledge the check out person? Sure, I might have engaged in how’s-your-day-did-you-find-everything-you-needed-that’s-an-interesting-tattoo small talk. But that was somewhere amidst shoving my reusable bags onto the conveyor belt while making sure my Bartlett and Anjou pears didn’t get mixed up while checking my e-mail on my BlackBerry. Even if I back up and think about how I’d walk to the store, did I ever actually see the other people walking on the street with me? Or did I get frustrated at the slow pokes and hurriedly buzz by them because this annoying errand was just a blip in my uber important life and these people were in my freakin’ way? Um. Yeah. If I back up even more, I wish someone had recorded one of the many conversations I had on the phone with my mom while buzzing past the people on the street on my way to being a snob at Whole Foods. I’d love to hear it now. It would have read like a laundry list of anxiety and conceit. (Thank you, Mom, for putting up with me. I’m sorry. You're a saint and you deserve better.)

But things have shifted. And I really hope that I can keep everything in its new place from now on. Learning about and diving deeply into the practice of yoga lit a spark within me. It helped me to recognize my own brightness. (Interestingly enough, my intention, or sankalpa, for the past six months has been a single word—“shiny”—and I didn’t even know why or what it meant or what it felt like until now.) I couldn’t even sleep past 6 a.m. each morning last week—although my body ached for more—because I couldn’t wait to continue stoking the fire, to see what else could be revealed. When I was truly aligned with life, everything in me and around me came to life, too.

When I arrived at the airport yesterday evening after the last day of the workshop, I hesitated to enter the building. I was scared that everyone else would look like zombies to me—the same way I must have appeared trucking down Halstead—and they’d quickly bring me back down to earth. Lights on. Game over. The end. What I found, however, was exactly the opposite. Everyone else seemed lighter and brighter to me, too. I didn’t see all the stuff they were hauling with them inside and out. Instead, I saw that they were folks just like me engaging in this dance we call life, even while balancing our 10-pound backpacks. In other words, recognizing my own light enabled me to notice the very same beacon in others.

So when I sit back down at my desk this morning, am I going to toss my iMac out the 10^th story window? Heck no! I can’t wait to get back to work! Because now, I hope I can approach it—and everything else—with the real zeal that powers me from within instead of relying on an imaginary piece of machinery for momentum.

And that, I hope, is living an authentic life.