Present Tense

Sometimes we don't know how much we've grown until we find the right yardstick.

Last week I went to my 30th high school reunion (which seems impossible, but there it is). I was a bit nervous about going; high school was not my best time. I was a shy, scrawny, awkward kid. I didn't really fit in with any particular group, though I usually hung out with the "smart" kids. I figured I had a better chance of acceptance there than with the "jocks." It would be another couple of years before I discovered booze and drugs, so the "stoners" scared me. I was very sensitive to everyone else's opinion of me, and spent far too much time trying to be someone I wasn't...usually unsuccessfully. Also, I've never stayed in touch with anyone from high school, so I wasn't even sure if I would know anyone, or if anyone would remember me. Still, I had a desire to go. I think part of it was because the idea made me uncomfortable, I figured I had to go. I got this from my yoga practice...when I encounter a pose that I don't like or that is difficult for me I work on it a lot, trying to "make friends" with it. As my college professor used to say, "Anything we resist, persists."

So, the night of the reunion I'm getting butterflies. As someone once told me, though, the trick isn't to get rid of the butterflies, it's to make them fly in formation. So, I shower, shave, put on some nice clothes and my wife and I head over to the event. While standing at the registration table, a woman approaches me and introduces herself. She sees my name tag, and says "Oh, are you M's brother?" (I have a step-sister who was in the same class as me) "Yes! Yes I am, are you a friend of hers?" "Yes, we were friends in junior high. My name's J. " She then looked at me closer, and said, "My gosh you've changed...you used to be UGLY!"

For a moment, maybe a split-second, I was once again a shy, scrawny, awkward kid. I was ready to bolt, but then I took a breath, smiled, and came back to reality. The truth is, I'm not that person anymore. The woman was right, I have changed. Physically, yes, but more to the point I'm much more comfortable in my own skin. In the 30 years since high school, I've gone to college, started a theater company, moved to New York, had multiple jobs, had a son, fallen in and out of love (several times!), married a wonderful woman, built a house, travelled, had a granddaughter, started a fairly successful yoga business...I've had 30 years of experiences that have led me to this place where I am now. None of us are the same as we were 30 years ago. Most of us aren't the same as we were 5 years ago. Or even 1 year ago. "Well, it's been a while. We've all changed a bit," I replied (...I think...at least that's what I hope I said...I was still a little rocked by "You used to be UGLY!")

The beauty of our yoga practice is that it reminds us that the most important moment in our lives is right-here-right-now-present-tense. What happened in the past may have shaped who we are, but it's not who we are. The Downward Dog that we did yesterday has no bearing on the Downward Dog we do today. The Warrior pose we did at the beginning of today's practice might have loosened up our hips and legs a bit, but it's not the same Warrior pose we did half-way through our practice. We may have learned from the meditation we did last week, but today our minds are grasping onto an entirely different set of circumstances and chatter. As long as we can feel our feet, our seat, our hands or our head touching the ground, we have a sense of where we are, and as long as we're willing to have the courage to deal with what comes out of that, we develop a sense of who we are.

Later in the evening I spotted a guy across the room who used to terrorize me when I was in elementary school. Every day he'd sit behind me on the bus and whisper in my ear that he was gonna kill me, or kick my ass, or some such thing. Even though he never touched me, I was scared to death of him. Now, seeing him as an approaching-middle-aged, tired-looking man, he didn't seem so scary. Still, I knew that I had to talk to him. Simply because the thought of talking to him made me uncomfortable. So, I approached and introduced myself. A big smile crossed his face, and he greeted me with a warm handshake. We had a very pleasant conversation, and remarked on how nice it was to see everyone again. That was it...no big confrontation, no sobbing apology, just two adults who no longer bore any resemblance to the 10-year-old children on the bus. I realized that if I had changed in all those years, so had he.