I woke up in a cranky mood this morning.
“Great,” Mike said when I informed him of this fact, and I don’t blame him, even though I sort of did at the time. One of the hardest things about being cranky for me is knowing that I am taking it out on him. (I was going to say “taking it out on others,” but the truth of the matter is I can pretty much hide it from anyone else. Mike, I don’t try so hard. That’s part of the satisfaction of being cranky, isn’t it? Making the person who chose to spend his life with you maybe regret it a little bit?
The way I chose to display my crankiness this morning was with a simple act of selfishness. I didn’t take Jake downstairs when he woke up and began yelling. Mike did as much for me yesterday for a blessed hour of extra sleep. But I just couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for getting out of bed and fixing the yogurt and organic imitation Cheerios that Jake loves to eat for breakfast.
Instead, pretending the wall between our bedroom and the office where Mike was trying to sleep had any significant noise-muffling properties, I looked for things Jake could play with on the bed while Mommy’s eyes were closed. The battery operated noise machine probably wasn’t the wisest choice, but I was trying to distract him from even more dangerous objects stored in the drawer we plainly need to baby-proof but haven’t yet.
Jake proved that even a battery operated noise machine can be pretty dangerous by dropping it on his toe.
At this point, I really did want to take Jake somewhere his Daddy wouldn’t hear his wails, if for no other reason than to avoid recriminations. But he needed to be held for a very long time before I could finally take him to the bathroom and run cold water over his toe. Even then, he didn’t appreciate it much.
We were all ready for breakfast by now. Because, really, there isn’t a parent alive would could sleep through all that commotion. This is when I reported my crankiness to Mike and he made the appropriate response.
So I sent the two of them off to Lowe’s and unrolled my yoga mat. And just to lighten the mood, I decided to play random songs off my computer while I was practicing. I guess it was my way of acknowledging that I wasn’t in much of a mood to focus and be spiritual. I just needed to smile a little bit.
And I did. My spine creaked, my quads burned, my nose remained too stuffy for the breathing that is really what an asana practice is about. But I enjoyed myself.
And then “Hey Jealousy” started playing. You remember. 1993. Goo Goo Dolls. Surely I wasn’t the only one listening.
These were my days of practicing law and running 10 miles on a Sunday morning trying to outdistance a panic attack. Of living alone and feeling even lonelier. And of bellowing the words to “Hey Jealousy” with a mix of regret and soaring hope: “If I hadn’t blown the whole thing years ago, I might be here with you.”
The “you” of my bellowing was the guy I dated through most of law school. Until some kernel of fear lodged its way into my throat during my third year, and I just knew I was in the wrong place. Marry him, I understood, and I would be content and bored, and something trying to stretch inside me would be forever stuck, lost, muffled under a thick layer of security.
A year after the end of the relationship, listening to “Hey Jealousy,” I hadn’t found my way to what it was that kept me from marrying my law school boyfriend. But I’ve found my way now, and the song filled me with joy even as writing about those days is making me cry a little bit right now.
Honoring Your Heart
It overwhelms me sometimes, how much my heart has done for me. It led me to leave a person I loved because I didn’t love myself when I was with him. It gave me the courage to leave a safe profession, a series of safe homes, a safe and easy place in the world. It led me to the person I chose to spend my life with, who makes me stronger and better. And, of course, it brought me the living piece of my heart who is my son.
I need to say here that those of us who don’t have children are being rewarded by our hearts in other ways. I went through so much sorrow to have Jake — miscarriages and indifferent doctors, pity from people who didn’t understand and dismissal from others who didn’t care. I don’t think I was any less deserving of motherhood than anyone else. Or any more. I was just lucky.
Before I had Jake, my heart rewarded me for following it by leading me to Mike (in a yoga class, no less). Before I found Mike, my heart rewarded me by finding my first child, a velvet-eared basset hound named Roxanne. And it brought me other gifts: acting in community theater, writing, and, yes, yoga.
In whatever form, your heart will bring you great love, if you let it. It might not come in the form you would have chosen for yourself, the life you thought you wanted to live. But if you honor your heart with trust, love will come.
Acknowledging Your Peace and Beauty
Our hearts are, of course, ourselves. Maybe that’s why it’s sometimes so hard for us to listen to them. It seems like the height of egoism to honor ourselves. When, in fact, honoring your heart is just the opposite. Because your ego, don’t you know, resides firmly in your head. Your heart, by contrast, doesn’t have self-promotion on its agenda.
Consider this yogic belief: The same energy that flows through the Universe flows through each and every person’s heart.
It’s not as crazy as it sounds. When you breathe, you breathe in energy from outside your body; this breath keeps you alive, awake, alert. The breath physically passes through your heart — as oxygen carried in the blood. If you can breathe in the dirt of our modern world — car exhaust and the oily smell of the gas station by your house and off-gassing chemicals from your neighbor’s newly painted fence — why wouldn’t you be able to breathe in more desirable elements as well?
If the energy from around us passes through our hearts with every breath, then when we honor our hearts we are honoring everything in the world around us. We are giving up our egos and their need to control, and we are trusting to something larger, in whatever way you define it.
How beautiful, to have your soul bound up with something bigger than you. Your heart is you — all the love you personally have to give. But it also contains the peace and beauty of the world. When you honor your heart, then, you honor your ability to become a part of that peace and beauty.
And if your child is a piece of your heart, you are also honoring his peace and beauty, which are surely undeniable. Next time you’re feeling down on yourself, consider what you have brought to the world in this one small being.
I would describe myself this morning as neither peaceful nor beautiful. But hearing a song from a lost time in my life sparked a deep surge of gratitude. And feeling gratitude to myself — that’s a thing of the rarest peace and beauty. That’s what yoga is about.