Coming to yoga class and committing to apply the philosophic principles, all while we move with our breath, is a very tangible challenge. I’ve been intentionally working on adding a challenge to that: Can I practice yoga while faced with a triggering conversation?
Luckily (or not), I have plenty of daily and weekly opportunities to test my practice off the mat. I am pretty sure you have a good amount as well. A short while ago, I had a rather long (and quite disturbing) phone conversation with someone who expressed anger toward me. Let’s call this person “A” and “K” is me.
A made it clear that one of the reasons s/he was upset at K was about something A believed K did wrong to someone else, but A decided to take it personally. A also described a situation that happened eleven years prior (unrelated to the above wrongdoing) when s/he felt left out, and was still in anger about it.
K’s first reaction was to question why A took things personally, why A wouldn’t give K the chance to explain the past actions and clarify that K had no control over many of the things A believed were done by K. After only a couple of unsuccessful attempts at creating a dialogue, I realized this was my time to be in calm awareness.
First thing I did was silently repeat the mantra: “May my words improve upon silence.” As I was listening to A use harsh words, and their need to delineate a right-wrong perspective, I kept thinking how yoga teaches us to recognize ourselves in others. Bridging the illusion of separation requires empathy and compassion.
I won’t say it was easy; because it wasn’t. I then saw I had to calm my energetic body by taking long breaths and giving myself time to exhale. The silence I chose to perform for most of the phone call gave me some space to go beyond the words I was hearing. I reminded myself of the yamas, or external ethics, we practice unto all beings: non-harming (love); benevolent truthfulness; responsibility in recognizing I have all I need; unity; simplicity and/or generosity.
I consciously followed my intention toward the outcome I was looking for. In my case, it was peace. Setting an intention when we start our practice teaches us that we can act accordingly, taking the necessary steps to find the quality we are looking for.
Similar to how we feel when faced with a challenging arm balance, we have an opportunity to drop our ego and listen to the teacher who lives within. In the A-K situation, it became clear to me that what I needed was to apologize for any pain caused – even if (in my belief) unintentionally, or not done by me.
Beyond the results, as we navigate our relationships in loving awareness, there’s a chance to spiritually grow. There’s an opportunity for empathetic communication and compassion for the aspects that live within ourselves and others. The secret is to commit to the practice. It never ends. We refine it and fine tune it every single time a new opportunity arises.
