Patience

Is B.S.

For real though.

A few days ago, I sat awkwardly on my chair and my foot fell asleep. I know. I teach yoga. I should always sit with perfect posture. I'm human. Working on it. My foot was asleep, and impatiently, I got up prematurely. My foot was in that numb state where you have to lift your leg high to ensure you get the sole of the foot down. Again, distracted, impatient, I somehow landed on the outer edge of my left foot. With my whole weight.

And I was down in a flash.

I almost laid in the cat food.

I didn't care. Kevin gawked while I rode out the first waves of pain. Holding onto the counter, I got back up. Figured it would bruise. Soon realized that I almost couldn't walk on it.

I began to fear I broke something. How many bones are in the foot?

Taking the situation more seriously, I migrated my office to the couch, elevated the foot, iced, began taking and applying arnica montana, and searched web md. All signs pointed to a likely sprain of a muscle or ligament in the foot. Phew!

(Side note: I spaz. And the brain is a dangerous thing. The brain can cause problems that weren't previously there. I believe wholeheartedly in the power of the brain. Feeding my brain a probable scenario quieted that monkey. Very important.)

Frustrated, I began renegotiating my schedule for the following day so that my work didn't involve me moving around. Again, I teach yoga. It took some doing. But I knew it had to be done. I've messed around with injuries before, brazenly said, I can do it! And I wound up prolonging my own recovery. Also, I couldn't offer the service that I'd promised. Instead, folks felt bad for me. They accommodated me. Teaching yoga is about the student, it's not about me. If I'm going to be a distraction, I'm sidelined.

Today, is day three. I usually grocery shop on injury day, so I've been without. Kevin is at the height of his busy season. An Aunt sent some healthy eats like bananas, spinach, and raw peanuts up to tide me over. Plenty of my work is in front of a computer, so I have been able to largely stay on task.

However. There are moments of grumpiness.

And then I meditate. Meditation is necessary, but it's also healing (again with the powerful mind). And I had a revelation as I concluded a recent sit, not so earth-shattering, but offered perspective: I often crave these time outs. So why be grumpy about it?

Because I didn't chose it.

Again with the revelations: I chose plenty that I don't find satisfying. Isn't the goal to gracefully move into whatever your circumstances?

Humph.

I'm injured. My job is to heal. I'll heal more efficiently if I rest, elevate, ice, meditate, and eat good healthy foods. Shoot, I could make it my own spa retreat.

Yet. I also usually clean the house on these days, which in my current limping state, I can't do. The house is a mess and I will not bathe in that tub.

So it's not a retreat. I'm still eating healthy, whole foods, reading some, catching up on a variety of projects while keeping up with work.

Each internal conversation echoes of every Buddhist, yogic, or generally spiritual teaching I've ever received: the problem is not my bum foot. The problem is me.

Normally, I can run around quickly enough to distract myself. My grumpiness might be shorter flashes. Stuck at home for a few days with the cat, I have to face myself more fully. Isn't this why most of us never slow down? And my mission in life *is* to face myself, and I'm *still* reluctant!

Here I sit, bum foot, monkey brain that wants to bemoan. I have food. I have shelter. I have work. Everything is fine. I am practicing healing, but increasingly I'm also practicing santosha, or contentment.

I'm so drawn to the yogic perspective on contentment (to the extent that it was the theme of my first ever yoga class). Contentment is not reliant on any circumstances or factors. Contentment is not a destination. Contentment is an active practice. We practice contentment no matter the circumstances. We practice ease and contentment when we're stuck in traffic, when there are insufficient funds, when it didn't go how we planned.

It never goes how we planned. Instead, we're patient. Observe where we've been asked to be. And within that space, find contentment.