A year or two ago I was sitting with Jenny, my Kripalu teacher. “I thought that if I went deeper, if I understood more, then it would get easier.”

She laughed – a big, kind-hearted grin, but the same laugh you’d give a little kid who just hugely misunderstood a basic principle of life. Like that ice cream will keep melting no matter how fast you lick.

She laughed and I got it – sort of. But not really. Because I’ve stubbornly held on to the notion that as I expand, grow, learn, and become more me, surely this hurt and confusion and anxiety will GO AWAY – disappear, like mountains in a rearview mirror.

Last night, I woke up suddenly at 2:28 AM when my cell phone rudely decided to buzz. I’d been snugly tucked in – totally out – and just like that, I was totally UP and worriedworriedworried about my kids, the State of the World, the oil, the cell phones – so many cell phones, my aged dog, my work …

It wasn’t pleasant and I didn’t overcome it with breathing or meditation – though I tried these things. There was a victory of sorts, however, because I could see my anxiety for what it was, and I knew with something approaching certainty that come morning, it would be washed away. Or nearly.

THIS it turns out is what growth looks like. It doesn’t look like the Dalai Lama or a woman in full sideways crow pose. It looks like a 44-year old wide awake in the middle of the night feeling softness toward her fear. Knowing that it not real. Seeing worry (and fear and anxiety and depression and anger) for what they are – waves that roll in and roll out, states of mind – this is a giant step and one that takes years to learn and relearn. As we become more skillful with this knowledge, the softer the grip is on us. The more quickly we can ease out of the pose of exertion and breathe into a pose of equanimity.

Surely, there’s some skillful state that exists beyond this, but this is where I am now.

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