I currently commute from the west coast where I have family to tend to, to New York City where I teach. I am fortunate. I’ve been able to arrange a temporary fix that allows me to be here for my family on the west, while still maintaining my business on the east. That’s the boon of being my own boss.
The downside is I fly a lot.
Flying is a drag.
But, it isn’t all bad. I have a dedicated six hours of quiet, uninterrupted time to work. I get to watch “chick flicks” sometimes (which, living in a house of boys, I usually have to do after everyone has gone to bed or camping).
Flying a lot means I have “medallion status.” Medallion status means that whenever possible, they pull me from the pleeb seats and put me in the sweet seats.
I’m not gonna lie - the sweet seats are nicer.
That’s the boon to flying a lot.
Nevertheless, I am still on a plane. No matter how nice the upgrade, or the movie, it is still flying. I still have to go through the security routine, pack my bag so that it will fit in the overhead bin and under the seat in front of me, and in such a way that I have the proper clothing, which is always a bit of a mystery because the weather on either coast is very different, and make sure that all my liquids fit in a quart size bag. There are a million little and large annoyances that come with flying.
None of that changes when they upgrade you. What I am trying to say is this; everything we do is a combination of boons and curses. Subconsciously we may know this, but sometimes it helps to break it down.
This week I am taking a much-needed break from travel. My family has a small cabin in the woods (you can read a little more about it here). I’m going to escape to the woods and unplug a little.
The upsides are obvious; a cabin in the woods near a lake. Duh.
The downsides; I have to pack AGAIN. And this time I am packing for a family of four. And I am not just talking about packing clothes and toothbrushes. Packing for the lake is like packing to move to a new house. There is the food, first aid, books, board games, bikes, the dog stuff - the list goes on and on and on. And I do all this while to listening to swooning songs of the boy band Bored Kids Eager to Hit the Road who replay their greatest hits of “Can we go yet?!” and “He hit me!” over and over and over again.
Getting out of town to go to the woods is an endeavor. You gotta really want to go to get there.
And isn’t that the whole point of doing anything? If we really want it, we have to do a little work to get it. It makes the getting all the sweeter.
This week everyone’s off from training. All the students are getting a well-earned break that I know they will use to work on practicing all their new-found skills (wink, wink ;)).
I hope you get a break too. And if you fly, I hope you get an upgrade. Those seats really are a lot better.
See you on the flip side!
Messages with Friends
I talk to Kate multiple times almost every day. Sometimes it is about work, but many times it is about current events, our families, or she sends me pictures.
We’ve grown so accustomed to talking to each other all the time that we often forget the other person isn’t walking around with us. The other day, Kate texted me, “he told me not to paint with it on!” and I had no idea what she was talking about. Her response, “Oh wait, I forgot you weren’t in the jewlers with me.”
Her response reminded me of my first experience working with a close friend. In my 20s I worked second shift at a corporate law firm with my friend, Alix. At the firm we went from “friendly” to best, best, besties because the job enabled us to constantly talk to each other. We talked all the time. Our work day didn’t start until 4:00pm, so we’d spend all day calling each other to talk about what was on our minds, what were were doing, what we saw, who we saw, and anything else that crossed our minds. When we weren’t talking, we were leaving voice messages. We left long, stream of consciousness messages about everything and nothing. I would call Alix and say, “OK, so I was walking by that coffee shop, on 5th, the one where we saw that famous guy, remember? And…” and on the other end, maybe 2 hours later, Alix would respond, “Uh-huh, yeah I remember…” as if we were having a conversation in real time.
When we got to work we would get coffee, recap the finer points of our day and then carry on talking. I assume we got some work done at some point because neither one of us got fired, but I have no memory of it. I remember spending many hours sitting across a desk with my best friend unraveling the mysteries of the universe and fashion trends.
It felt so normal. Alix was my other self. We joked that we shared a brain. We had so much to talk about it never occurred to me that our habits might seem odd to the outside world.
Eventually, an outsider discovered our GalPal Gab-a-Thon. Alix’s officemate overheard one of my messages and asked, “is that a voicemail?”
Alix replied, “Yeah.”
“It is? What! Why?”
Alix did not understand. She said, “What do you mean?”
He said, “Dude, why is Jen leaving you a five minute message? Does she understand that you aren’t there?”
“Yeah, of courses she does. She’s just leaving me a message.”
Her office mate shook his head and said, “Oh my god, you guys are so weird.”
To hear Alix tell it, she just sat there, blank faced. She had no idea this would seem weird to someone else and she didn’t understand why. We were friends. We had thoughts we needed to share. We liked to talk. What was the problem?
Such is the nature of true love. It blinds and binds us.
Having a friend you relate to so well you almost forget they are not running errands with you is a rare, special gift. The fact that I have had the opportunity to experience it twice in my life is truly, spectacularly, indulgent.
But, that is the boon of doing something with people you love. Working second shift at the law firm was not a great career move. It didn’t pay well and there was no chance of advancement. But, it was a great lifestyle choice. I had my days free and my nights were spent goofing around with people I loved. I had a lot of laughs at that job.
The same can be said of TSY. Most of the time we are crossing our fingers, hoping and praying we make our ends meet. Our tuition is so low we often wonder just what the hell we are doing and why, but then Kate sends me a message like “Fi is crawling!” along with a picture of her cherubic niece smiling and then I remember why; TSY is not just a business, it is a family. We’re a group of people looking to create a community that extends beyond yoga teacher trainings and yoga classes. We love each other. And we enjoy each other’s company.
I’ve been told that my emails are supposed to offer teaching advice, leadership advice, etc., but this week I don’t want to. What I want to offer you is a piece of advice my dad gave me when I left Spokane for New York City at 18; do not worry about what will happen if you fail. Think instead about what you will lose if you don’t try. Some things cannot be measured by the amount of money you spend, sometimes the experience and the friends you make along the way, is worth so much more.
You Get to Choose
You get to choose too.
I have to remind myself of this a lot. When someone doesn’t choose me, or has a different way of doing things, my default is to think that there is something wrong with me. Their way is better. I am doing “everything” wrong.
We all have The Joneses - the people we compare ourselves to. These are the friends, the social media contacts and neighbors we choose to self-flagellate with. Our successes are either propped up or diminished by them.
For example; yesterday we hosted a “last day of school” party for a bunch of tweens. It was six hours of 12-year-olds rough housing, and video gaming. Fun and exhausting. This party was for the kids, but it was also a way for me to see how they interacted, what the social pecking order was and how my child fit into it.
It was also an opportunity to meet the parents connected to his friends. There was the usual exchange of pleasantries; thank you for having him, thank you for coming, etc. Some parents lingered a little longer to chat, some whisked their kids away in a hurry. We all communicated something specific about ourselves and our children. I am in a hurry because we have another engagement; our child is very popular. I have time to kill and feel like talking; I’ll linger a little longer and tell you the great things about us. I am late because my job kept me; I am very busy! I am relaxed and welcoming; hey, don’t worry about it.
Each interaction is the Story of Us; a tale of the family that we want others to not so much know about us, but to believe about us. We embellish. The Stories of Us is us at our best. It is our domestic fairy tale.
Every time I have one these interactions, I walk away feeling like a failure. My kids are often rude and unhelpful. I have to remind them to say “please” and “thank you” all the time. They are picky eaters. They pick on each other. They do not like sports.
I am not nearly as good at this parenting as this guy!
That is when I have to remind myself, “Jen, you get to choose.” I get to decide if that way of parenting is the “right” way, or if I am OK doing it my way. I decide to self-flagellate or not. We don’t just get told what we are doing is wrong. The final decision comes down to us. We either agree with them or we don’t. We decide.
We write our own story.
Yoga teaches us that power is not just forceful dominance. It is also receptive yielding. Accepting oneself is an act of yielding. It is often uncomfortable. Being able to sit in that discomfort is brave. It is also the source of acceptance.
As you head out to teach your classes make a brave choice to never, ever compare yourself to other teachers. Write “I Choose THIS!” this on the cover of a teaching notebook and fill that book with what it means to be a good teacher, what you need to do to make that a reality and what your next steps will be. Sit down after each teaching experience and figure out what worked and what you will do differently next time. Be honest with yourself, be critical and always write “next time I will…” Make sure you leave that door open. And never, ever compare your work to someone else’s. Unfollow your peers on social networks for a while if you find that you are getting too distracted by their stories. Go into your own experience and trust that your story is worth telling too.