The New Kid in Class

Luckily, throughout my life, I haven't been "the new kid" all that often. As an adult, however, I find that being the new kid is becoming more common. It's funny how sometimes I think about NOT doing things because of the uncertainty (where to park, what to bring, what to wear, etc.). I've noticed that pattern and worked to get past those barriers. I think my introverted nature makes these new situations more scary because it seems like everyone else is always chummy and social, leaving me to my lonesome. This is a hard one to overcome, but noticing it is helpful.

One place I felt very secure before moving was at the yoga studio. I knew all the staff and teachers and many of the fellow students. I usually knew at least 2 people walking around. They knew me. I knew where stuff was, how to set up in the space and to some extent, how the class was going to go. No stress. No uncertainty. Awesome.

Earlier this week, I set out for my first visit to a new studio. I was resistant. I know the protocol of studios, so there was some consistency, like going early to pay and get the run-down. I was the first one there and, like many studios, although the person at the desk knew I was new, I didn't get much by way of assistance.  I stepped into the space and immediately knew I'd have to ask some questions. Which way do I face? How do you set up mats? Do you use props? Where is the bathroom? Oh, the stress of being new!

I've now been there twice and feel better about it. Everyone is really nice and helpful when I ask quesitons and it's been a good practice for me to speak up and ask for what I need. Most of us could probably benefit from more of this.

Until next time, have you done anything recently that was outside your comfort zone or have you been the new kid in class?

I could’ve sworn it was there!

We’ve all had times when we thought we saw something only to find out it was something completely different. The movies over the years have showed us countless examples of people lost or stuck in the desert thinking they see water, but once they approach the edge, it’s really not water after all. Whenever we drive to the cabin, once nightfall approaches, every mailbox looks like a deer on the side of the road.   

Thinking back, I have countless examples of seeing something, making a lightning-quick assessment of it, labeling it as something and then realizing my assessment was far off the mark. I’ve never really thought about this phenomenon before, but as I was gazing out the window, a stone trash reciptical  looked like it had a vine growing on it. As I was trying to figure out where the vine came from, if it grew up from a crack in the sidewalk or whether it was potted inside the vessel and flowing over the edge, I realized there was no vine; it was just a stone trash can. But my mind was able to create a whole story and assessment based on something I thought I saw. It was all a figment of my imagination.

How powerful this is to consider how much impact these figments have on our lives. We think someone is doing something for one reason or another, we feel attacked by someone’s words, we hear someone say our name, or we let our minds run crazy with stories that have nothing to do with anything. We wrongly accuse people for things we think we saw them do or not do. We end relationships and cause family rifts because of something we think we saw or heard. I could go on and on.

The point is, what impact do figments of our imaginations have on life? Are they harmful? Are they imaginative, creative and helpful? Or are they neutral and not matter at all?

I don’t know the answers. I just know that paying attention, learning to see things before judging them or assessing them and always being curious, we can learn to see when these figments occur and act accordingly (whatever that means).

Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop

There is just something about coffee shops. I can’t explain it. I don’t even have a desire to explain it. I just love the feel of them. The smell. The people. The music. The environment. The culture. Coffee shops are unique – and not all have that same feeling. As I sit here gazing out the window, buses, cars and people are strolling by as if they are in some outside world. Inside the coffee shop, it’s like the world stands still. Only this coffee shop exists – just me and my computer and my tea. Tonight I’m drinking tea. I’m writing. Time, place and circumstance aren’t relevant. They have no place here. When I’m here, nothing is relevant. Nothing matters, nothing stays the same, everything must change. The doors will close and I will go home, richer because of it.

Sounds a bit like meditation, doesn’t it.

Isn’t that interesting.