Pause on Empty

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In September I attended Same Same But Different Festival in Lake Perris California. After a year of any and all festivals that I attend being cancelled, postponed, or altered to an almost unrecognizable state, it was really nice to be back in that atmosphere. A whole host of people came together to fly their freak flags, march to their own drums and celebrate life. You really love to see it.

On the second day of the festival I attended a yoga/tai chi hybrid class led by a Doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine. I’m a bit embarrassed to say that it was my first yoga class in over a month. Sometime during the summer I had returned to teaching public classes in Los Angeles, but I found myself unfulfilled in the act. After a two week period where I tried to find a sub for my class for no other reason than I didn’t want to teach it, I decided that I had to take a break and gave up my classes. I think that a lot of that had to do with losing my practice.

It’s hard to be a teacher if you’re not consistently allowing yourself to be taught.

So I took this class led by a lovely woman who gave off those super earthy goddess vibes under a tent that overlooked a lake surrounded by rolling desert hills. If you feel uninspired in a studio located in your local strip mall, I highly recommend this backdrop as a way to return to your mat in a really meaningful way. It just brings about a really open state of mind where you’re really ready to receive any of the downloads that the teacher knowingly or unknowingly passes on to you.

And speaking of such downloads, this teacher provided me with a line that continued to roll back and forth in my mind for the duration of the festival and has continued to tap me on the shoulder here and there throughout my day all the way up to writing this piece.

As she guided us through some very light postures with a number of energetic tai chi cues, she acknowledged the breath:

“Pause on empty.”

I’ve heard that cue a million times. At Corepower Yoga, they’ll even give new teachers the feedback that they cue the breath too much when they’re nervous and feel like they have to fill up the space with words. It’s useful to hear when you’re new and think that the class is really hanging on your every word and not all up in their head winning made up arguments from the past week.

But there and in that moment it felt important.

It felt like it really landed on me as a potential lesson or takeaway if I chose to receive it. Like a prophecy that I had to turn over a couple of times to see what it was really saying. Any teachers reading this, you never know what you might say that will stick with somebody.

So what about empty? Why pause there? Isn’t empty a place that we don’t want to be?

Well, for the most part, I’d say yes. I generally don’t want to feel empty. I don’t want to exist at the bottom, but the cyclical nature of things seems to suggest that this might be an inevitable place that we all end up sometimes.

In the past year I’ve had several times where I took a moment to pause at the top of the circle or, on full. When I first began working independently, I did a practice where I wrote out what my ideal day might look like. I described a day where I woke up to move my body and meditate, then see one or two clients before returning home for a light lunch and quick run. I’d then finish the day with two or three clients before returning home again to cool down for the evening. It seemed like the right balance of self care and client work that could sustain me without burning me out. And a couple of times this year, it happened.

My day played out exactly as I had imagined it those four years ago and I was really struck by gratitude. I had made it to that pinnacle that I had set for myself. Now obviously once I’ve arrived at this peak, I can see higher mountains in the distance and I set my sights on something new, but it’s still such a cool thing to stop for a moment and admire the view. If my meditation practice has done anything for me, it has allowed me to pause and really take in my current surroundings.

But like anything else, there’s another side of this coin.

What do we do when we feel like shit? When we’ve hit that proverbial rock bottom and it seems like everything that could possibly go wrong, has gone wrong and we’re left in the aftermath.

I’m thinking that maybe we pause on empty.

Remember all those months ago when the whole world went to shit? Ok I’ll probably have to be more specific here, but when the world first decided to shut down and go into quarantine. It felt like we were running headlong into the apocalypse. Businesses closed, employees got fired and people died. Some of that stuff is still happening, so I’m not one to tell you to look on the bright side of things. I don’t want you or anyone to look at the crumbled wreckage and call it a meadow. Those things are very different, but maybe they can both be appreciated in their own ways.

Today I was supposed to see five different clients throughout my day. Four of them cancelled. At the moment, I don’t really have a strict cancellation policy so it’s a substantial amount of money lost. Between the festival and a couple other out of town engagements, I haven’t hit the grind this month quite as much as I had been, so the initial reaction to a full schedule imploding on itself is a bit worrisome to say the least. I’m still prone to my moments of imposter syndrome and hopelessness in ever keeping a business afloat and prosperous for any significant amount of time.

In the midst of those not-so-fuzzy feelings, the frustration of a day lost and the void that is my empty schedule…

I pause

It’s not so bad.

I cleaned my room. I worked out and took care of the body that I’ve somewhat neglected over the summer months. I got around to some of the administrative work that I tend to avoid. I got to spend some time writing.

It feels really good, actually. Instead of trying to figure out why I had such a light day and fix it in the moment, I contemplated what it felt like sitting on empty. There is an amazing amount of space here. The possibilities are endless. I can be a writer. I can move cities. I can travel anywhere. This is just a microcosm of a situation and one small day in the course of a lifetime, but still, I imagine the business crumbling down and sitting there amongst the ashes. I’m not rummaging through the wreckage or trying desperately to hold up the last two pillars as they sway back and forth. I’m just sitting there smiling.

A still moment where I can enjoy the view.

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