I saw the neighborhood homeless guy on the way to the studio this morning. (Not the guy in the picture. A different guy near my house.) He wasn’t where I usually see him. He was across the street on the corner standing next to his bag. I was driving past him in my car with the windows up. He was flailing his arms about; his mouth was moving and his head was nodding in emphatic agreement with whatever he was saying.
My first thought was, “Whoa! Dude’s lost it.”
Then immediately I realized I was talking to myself too. I was having a conversation about this guy in my head. The difference was that nobody could see me having this conversation with myself.
Yoga teaches us to start watching the thoughts but not participate with them. See them for what they are. It’s a form of mindfulness mediation. The guy on the corner was acting out what we do all day unless we consciously work on doing something different.
The voice in our head seems so important. We let it call the shots. It determines if we’re stressed, if we’re happy or if we’re sad. We do it all the time and we think it’s normal.
Maybe “normal” is the worst kind of crazy.
So, I dropped the conversation in my head about the guy and went back to breathing, driving, breathing, oh, look at that car! breathing, driving, watch out!! breathing, driving, I49 sucks, breathing, driving….
And the moral is……
No one came to class tonight…..and I don’t give a damn.
Twenty people came to class tonight……and I don’t give a damn.