We are in the midst of a relocation, and our moving company was supposed to arrive on Thursday of last week. I handled the reschedule to Monday like a pro; especially given I had been sleeping on an air mattress for a week.
Friday evening arrives, and I begin my much anticipated weekend meditation training; the perfect way to spend my birthday. As I drove home Friday after our evening session, blissed out and committed to noble silence, I noticed a flurry of messages on my phone.
The movers were now arriving the following day at 8AM. Good Golly. Forced to cancel my meditation weekend as my husband was still in Ohio, I spent my weekend sorting, stacking, unpacking, folding, moving, placing, donating…. you get the point.
I had a moment of meltdown in which I left a desperate voicemail for my husband that never again in our life would we move with one person on the receiving end. A twinge of bitterness sunk in as he was enjoying a golf trip with friends, and I found myself grousing around in a “woe is me,” and “why am I always on the work end of the stick?”
And then it struck me. Yoga. This is where our practice begins; off our mat when the temperature dial turns up.
These moments are a fabulous reminder that life laughs at the leashes we try to put on it. Control is an illusion, and the real trick is to stay connected with flow and peace even when the waters are choppy and unpredictable.