My thoughts crept back to the previous night, where I sat blindfolded for the first time in years. I felt my body wince as I voluntarily tied the blindfoldaround my head and made sure I couldn’t sneak a peak. Once my mind figured out the scam that I wasn’t going to take the bandana off immediately, tthe chatter quickly grew to a summer festival worthy of the top headliners.
“This is not okay! Take this off this instant and open those eyes!” my mind screamed as I tried to let my body move on its own recognizance.
“I’m warning you, I’m jumping ship and then you’ll be up shit creek without a paddle!” My mind was now threatening me by acting as a savior for the inevitable doom to come. She convinced me that trusting no one would keep me safe.
So I took a deep breath, shook my body, and reminded myself that my body knows what to do. After all, I do yoga every day. It knows where to go. Every minute, I had to rise above the din of my howling thoughts that tried to tell me danger was coming at every turn. But I kept the blindfold on as a stand to the trite and unjustified remarks being hurled in my direction.
Then it came. That moment where my insistence on flowing in this same direction led to my mind doing a 180 and following me down my road. I put my hands on my mat, solidly melding with the floor, and gently kicked my feet onward and upward. With no eyes, I first carefully hopped until I realized that I didn’t need to be so cautious. My body knew where to go, what to do; this has become a habit.
The moment I let my body do its thing, and let my mind sit in the back pouting, was the most exhilarated feeling I’ve had since the rubble of my big move settled. It was such a simple act of changing perspective on something I do every day. I walk around preaching changing perspective, and I work to do it all the time when necessary. But this one came from left field and left me sitting with the ball in my hand, smiling.
My mind is a very helpful mind. But it often forgets the long journey it takes to get to the places I find magical. My emotions, my soul, can get there in a heartbeat. But my mind likes the winding trails, the fresh grass, and the new buds of the spring flowers. She likes to dabble (and ramble) in the words describing the beauty, because that’s how she expresses herself. When there is no sight, she knows there are other ways to see things.
Changing perspective can be a mindful process, or it can come and playfully hit you in the ass. But no matter how it happens, it happens. So let it happen.
When something beautiful comes your way but the everydayness of it turns it into a gray flat canvas, change direction. Go upside down. Add a bit of color.
Then look and see the world go round and round…from a new angle.