Perspective
My teacher says that life is suffering.
That we all, despite our best intentions, are bound to hurt others.
For example…
If I’m overjoyed, frolicking through the grass, it would seem to me that there’s no way my joy could be causing anyone suffering. However, there’s a microscopic world that lives in the grass, and if I zoomed in, I would probably find a few dead bugs beneath my feet.
Did I stomp on the bugs with an intention to kill?
No.
But simply through my getting lost in the present moment, I was oblivious to how my actions were affecting others, especially others out of sight.
It’s been said that a picture says a thousand words, but I never realized how true that sentiment is until I heard her perspective of this moment.
Do you see the woman in the background?
I hurt her unintentionally, but I didn’t know it.
Almost a year later, a mutual friend introduced us, causing this picture to forever hit differently in my heart.
First, let me share my perspective.
We were at Backwoods Music Festival 2021 on Sunday. I was the resident yogi and workshop coordinator. We had workshops from 8:00 AM until 5:00 PM on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and the last workshop of the weekend had just concluded. We were finally off work for the weekend.
Although we love the work, it’s still work. And we were ready to play.
Alright. Let’s get this place clean, so we can get our party started!
“Hey Jacob, will you take a few pics of me in front of our space? They might have it torn down by the time we get back later.”
He took a picture of me in tree pose. Then, two of our workshop instructors approached us.
“Thanks for having us as a part of the team,” one of them said.
“Absolutely,” I replied. “Y’all did a great job.”
“Thanks. It was a blast,” the other added.
“Let’s take a pic together before we go,” I said.
“Ok!”
“Can y’all do headstand?”
“Yes!” they sounded in unison.
“Yay!”
We were all buzzing and feeding off each other.
“Let me grab one of the rugs. Hold on.”
We had several camping rugs in the workshop dome, creating spaces for people to cop-a-squat who didn’t stroll in with their own yoga mats. I was supposed to pick them all up and put them away before I left the space anyway.
The dome was empty when I started cleaning after the last class ended. However, at some point when I was taking pictures, someone wandered into the space and sat down on one of the rugs.
“Hi,” I acknowledged her briefly before picking up the rug next to her. I gave it a quick shake, then set it in the perfect spot for our picture.
The three of us assumed our headstands. We giggled the whole time, trying not to fall as Jacob captured the moment.
After saying our goodbyes, I went to finish what I started. The woman now seemed to be writing in her journal.
“Excuse me, I’m supposed to pick up the space before I leave. Can I please have the rug your mat is on?”
“Ok.” She stood up, pulled her mat off the rug, then plopped back down on her mat without giving me a second glance and immediately dove back into writing.
I picked up the last two mats, put them away, and that was that for almost a year.
Cut to…
Jacob and I were getting down with some of our friends at a local show in Dallas. We had danced our asses off and everyone was saying their goodbyes.
“Hey Aubrey, I want you to meet our friend, Sandra,” one of my newer friends said as she pulled an unfamiliar face in front of me. “She was at Backwoods this year.”
“Hi Sandra. Nice to meet you.” I smiled and hugged the human in front of me.
“Hi,” she said in a shaky, unsure voice.
“It’s always a pleasure to meet more Backwoods fam. I ran the workshop space. Did you take any classes while you were there?”
“No,” she answered, as her head drooped slightly. “But I had a bad run-in with the yoga instructor.”
“Huh?” I tilted my head.
“I really wanted to check out some of the classes,” she shared, “but I was intimidated. I finally got the courage to just go hang out in the dome after everything ended, and when the yoga instructor saw me, she didn’t even ask me how I was. Then she shook a rug in my face, which blew dust in my eyes.”
“She did?” I asked as the reality of what was happening started to make my heart ache.
“Yup. She was too busy taking headstand pictures with some of her friends to even notice. She was so rude.” She shook her head as she remembered the moment.
My jaw slowly dropped as her words sunk into my psyche. I knew the scene she was describing, and I was mortified.
“So, while I was intimidated to go to her class, afraid that I couldn’t do what she was teaching, she literally threw dust in my face before showing off with the exact poses I was afraid she’d teach.”
“Sandra, I’m so sorry you had that experience,” I said, feeling myself in shock. “I’m afraid that was me. I’m so sorry.”
“What?” She was taken aback. She didn’t expect that.
“It was me.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was the only yoga instructor at Backwoods. I was the one cleaning the space when the workshops were over, and I took a picture with some of my fellow instructors in a headstand in front of the dome.”
Dumbfounded, she musters, “I wonder if you can see me in the background?”
I wondered the same thing.
That moment rattled me. How one moment in time could be so different for two different people. How I could hurt someone without even meaning to. But then later that week, like magic, I stumbled upon the lecture by my teacher that holds the lesson which I shared earlier, and it rang true like it never had before. Yes. My joy can cause suffering for others, even if I don’t mean to, and even if I don’t see it.
One detail I left out earlier…
When I was introduced to Sandra, I was on LSD. So, although I was rocked by the interaction, her face didn’t imprint on my mind. And so, when I found myself at the same campout as her about six months later, I didn’t recognize her.
Talk about fucking with a girl’s head.
Her feelings were hurt.
She reminded me of our interaction at the club, and I apologized for not remembering her face. This time, however, she was on psychedelics, too, so she didn’t hesitate to express her mind and heart.
She had made up a story of who I was and how I should have behaved in that unfortunate moment at Backwoods because of the role I was playing.
In her mind, a yoga instructor was supposed to behave in a specific way. A yoga teacher should have cared enough to approach her in her vulnerability and offered her the comfort and self-assurance that she was looking for. But I didn’t.
I could see the disgust, doubt, and disbelief in her eyes as she studied my face. She couldn’t believe that I hadn’t dwelt on that moment, like she had. Why wasn’t I carrying guilt and shame about that moment? Why wasn’t I more apologetic?
“Sandra, truly. I’m sorry for how my actions made you feel. I wasn’t trying to show off, and I didn’t mean to throw dirt in your face as I shook the rug. Could you please just consider my perspective for a second?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you expected me to behave ‘like a yogi.’ You had a certain expectation of how I was supposed to act. However, I was just a person who was doing a job. Had you come to class, I would have been more open to pause and connect with you. At that point, I would have been playing the teacher, the yogi, and you would have been the student. But I had been working my ass off all weekend and had just gotten off work. While everyone else was partying, we were over here working eight-hour days. I was done holding space for others. It was finally my turn to get to party. Have you ever been exhausted after work and just ready to blow off some steam?”
“Yeah,” I could tell she was uncomfortable.
“So, why do I have to be held to a different, higher standard? Why did you still expect me to play that role for you when I was off work? Sure, being a yogi is a big part of my personality and a big part of who I am, but I’m also just a human who needs to blow off steam when she gets off work.”
Here’s the thing, though.
We humans naturally tend to assign people “roles” in our minds. Sometimes it’s actually the job they are being paid for, and sometimes we cast them as characters in dramas that we’ve been living out in our minds and lives on repeat.
My teacher says that this is the realm in which human consciousness evolves. We incarnate into these bodies so our souls can learn lessons that are only realized through the human experience. Sometimes we get the lesson right away. Sometimes we must experience it many times in many different ways to finally get it.
When we have a triggering experience, because our mind’s nature is problem-solving, it attaches a story to the experience to help it make sense (even if that story isn’t true). If we fail to ask the question, “What is this trigger here to teach me? What am I supposed to see that I don’t yet see?” we are bound to have similar experiences repeatedly until we finally get it. (If we ever get it.) However, each time the loop resurfaces, different people will play the same cast of characters but will tell the same story from a slightly different angle, making it appear as if it’s a completely new circumstance.
It’s said that the Universe speaks to us in whispers. If we don’t get the message the first time, however, She gets louder and louder, until eventually a brick wall might collapse on your head.
The question is, can you see past the story?
Can you let go of how you were victimized, learn the lesson, and become your own hero so the cycle can stop?
I’m grateful that Sandra and I run in some of the same circles. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have learned this lesson. It would have simply been a moment in time in which I only knew my perspective of the situation. Had she not been a friend-of-a-friend, I wouldn’t have felt in my bones the reality that my joy can cause me to be oblivious to someone else’s pain.
I don’t want to be oblivious. I want to notice. I needed to see this.
Does that mean, however, that I need to dim my light and diminish my joy for the sake of others?
Hell no!
But now I’m aware of the possibility and can be more mindful, considerate, and empathetic because of it.
I like to believe the story that I’m always putting good vibes out there and that my fairy dust only blesses those it touches. But that’s not true.
There are going to be people out there who have had an experience of someone who’s two-faced: someone who’s bright and shiny one minute, then talks shit about you behind your back. There are people out there who aren’t genuine. Thus, there are naturally going to be others who meet me and automatically cast me as that person in their loop and drama. There are people who will never know me because of who they believe I am.
And so, when I try again to make nice with Sandra the next time I see her and she tells me that, “We’re never going to be friends,” I let it go.
It’s not my job to change her mind about who I am and why I’m worthy of befriending. It’s only my job to be open to the lesson that our encounter was here to teach me. I did my best to extend an olive branch, and that’s all I can do.
She’s on her own journey. We all are. Some will pause to notice other perspectives along the way. Some won’t. Some people will like you. Others won’t.
Before learning her perspective, this picture brought me joy. Now it makes me a little sad. I often wonder if I had paused to connect with her at that moment, how would that have shifted the trajectory of our connection, and how would that have affected the vibe of our friend group? However, dwelling on what might have been does nothing for me now.
This truly taught me that, indeed, we do only have one chance to make a first impression. So, always do your best to be your best. And when you fall short, take ownership of your actions, apologize, learn the lesson, change your behavior, forgive yourself, and move on.
Until next time…
XO
Aubrey Warren: The Festival Fairy Godmother 