“People are full of surprises, even for themselves, if they have been stirred enough.”
– James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room
Suprise is defined as “an unexpected or astonishing event”; or, as a verb, “to feel or cause someone to feel, shock or astonishment”.
But how does that feel? I mean, really feel… physiologically?
Maybe surprise feels like a smile involuntarily spreading across your face. Perhaps it feels like a happy jolt darting through your chest. A beautiful shiver jittering up and down your spine. And what does it look like?
Perhaps like a busy-minded first-time yogi who was afraid of surviving a 75-minute class, sitting in silence many minutes after we had already closed our practice. Or maybe it looks like a couple in their late 60s gasping with glee each time they surprised themselves in their first yoga class.
And maybe. Just maybe, surprise is the feeling of my own growth, each time I teach. Upward. Expansive. A heart filled with gratitude and fulfilment.The energy to take another breath on a day I felt I might not be able to drag myself out of bed.
I recently taught a multi-generational, multi-abled class of about 30 people. A hybrid class of mat and chair yoga. A decision that had to be taken on the fly, based on participants’ physical ability – and the fact that there were not enough mats for everyone! At first glance, all I saw was the number of challenges before me. But then something reminded me I had a tool kit stocked with ideas and skills I’d been gathering over the years.
“Something reminded me I had a tool kit stocked with ideas and skills I’d been gathering over the years.”
Surprise!
Afterward a woman of about 70 years old came to tell me – proudly – about the simple exercises and stretches she did before she got out of bed every morning.
Did I think that was good enough, she asked me as she described her morning moving routine. Her eyes glistened as I told her it was perfect. I stood outside of myself, watching myself knowing what to say…
Surprise!
Another came to tell me she went to gym 3 times a week but had always been afraid to do yoga because she had been intimidated by the images of the pretzel poses which are often used to sell yoga these days. During my session, she said, she had surprised herself.
I loved that.
When I wrote this post, it had been about 6 weeks since I had officially launched my yoga studio. One month since I launched my classes. And 16 days since I left my job at a company I had worked for for 24 years. A year ago I might never have imagined myself here.
Here.
Isn’t it incredible, these cliched curveballs that life throws you? The challenges that lead to open doors. The doors you open when you are challenged. And the doors that open up inside of you. I had been afraid to leave my job. I won’t lie. I had become comfortable. In the routine. In the knowledge of what to do. And when. I became comfortable knowing the people I worked with. Knowing how they worked, what they would say and how they would say it. I had become comfortable in what I knew… and not knowing or needing to know much else. I wore it like an old favourite jersey. But in comfort there is no growth. Likewise in growth, there isn’t always comfort. It’s a bit like outgrowing a pair of jeans or a shirt that you’ve worn and loved for a long time.
“In comfort there is no growth. Likewise in growth, there isn’t always comfort.”
But then one day you can’t contain your growth within the seams of those comfortable clothes. Or circumstances around you force you to change. Like when clothes go out of fashion, I guess. I used to love bell-bottom pants. Now every part of me rebels against them.
I don’t rebel against those pants because I hate them. They simply don’t suit me anymore. My body has changed. My shape has changed.
I did not hate my job when I left it. I had simply changed. And I had simply needed a change.
So, here I am feeling like everything’s changed. Like I’m living a life I don’t recognise. And yet… when I look at it all, I can see all the things we’ve done to prepare us for this point that we’re at now. Here.
The things I learned, writing this piece
- It’s not always possible to prepare for every eventuality
- When you’re too afraid to change for too long, the Universe will shove you
- Growth isn’t always comfortable
- Leaving a job you’ve done for a long time is a lot like a break-up
- It’s okay to feel uncertain… just don’t let that feeling linger