Last night in my yoga class I lost my feet.

I got through integration, through Sun Salutation A’s and stepped into my first Warrior One before I even noticed where I was or what I was doing.

“Did we even do Sun A? What about chair pose? Did he [the instructor] forget something?”

That’s a good 20 to 25 minutes of instruction and movement that I had essentially no memory of. Like, none, which is about as scary as arriving at a destination in your car, as the driver, and wondering who got you there. It’s also as scary as being a part of a society that you realize you’ve been privileged to exist in without ever being required to notice who was, and was not, in it with you.

My body was physically in the room, yes. My feet were technically on the mat, sure. But my mind and soul elected an alternative activity.

That’s how I’ve felt the last week and a half. Distracted. Detached. Cerebral.

I haven’t been able to write regularly, because every time I sit down the words escape me and my mind shifts back out of focus. I keep asking my kids the same questions and not hearing the answers. “Mom! You just asked us that!” they protest. My husband starts telling me about his day and halfway through I mutter something like “how was work today?” He stares at me in surprise. He’s accustomed to me listening. To engaging. To connecting with him in conversation.

But I can’t. Because I am so currently hyper-aware.

My brain is somewhere else. Thinking about something else. Worried, about something else. Ready to do something, about something else.

What an interesting change, to go from focused on me, and my space, and my reality and perceptions, to zooming out to see how I have contributed to the current deplorable state of our American society. In doing that, I stepped out of my own feet and saw something different.  

And the unexpected casualty? My presence. I am not engaging with things happening right exactly in front of me in my day-to-day. Instead, I’m focused on what’s happening everywhere else all around me. There is just so much to think about. There is just so much to be done.

There is just.so.much.

So I’ve just been sitting in it. All of it. Reading. Thinking. Learning. Asking. Considering what action to take. Choosing my words judiciously.

But I know, to do the work, to get back in, I have to be here. Someone must keep driving us forward. Someone must keep pushing the pedal and turning the wheel and watching the road. Someone must be present.

Well, actually, we all must.

Because, yes, we must be woke. Yes, we must be present to what is happening outside ourselves. Yes, we must see those things we do not wish to see. I must. You must. We must. 

And, we’ve got to do it while standing in our own two feet.

If you are not aware of what is actually going on in the world outside of you as well as inside of you, then you too, are not really here.  You are not fully you if you choose only to acknowledge the parts you like and remain indifferent to the parts you don’t.

You cannot be authentic if you, are not you. You cannot be real if you are not awake. You cannot make a change if you are not fully here to make it.

Take the time to be in your headspace. Take the time to learn. Take the time to listen. Take the time to lose your own feet. Then get back in and feel around again. Get grounded in your truths. Push your heels down flat into the earth, or your mat. Stretch your spine long and drop your eyes from the sky to the path ahead.  

Let your feet lead you from here, they know where to go. Get out of your own way, and follow them.

 

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