This is Enough

Last Thursday I taught my typical 6pm yoga class. However, what made it untypical for me was that so far, it has been my best class yet and only one person showed up. H is my loyal student; she rarely ever misses a class and if she does, she tells me days ahead of time. She was my only student on day one a couple months ago when I decided to pick up yoga once again. I have seen her grow as a student and she has seen me grow as a teacher. 

By the end of Thursday’s class, we both bowed to the mirrors in front of us while reciting, “namaste”. We looked at each other, red faced and with childish grins on our faces knowing we had just created something wonderful together. 

In that moment the phrase, “this is enough,” came to me as if someone had whispered it in my ear. One student is enough. To be honest, it does hurt the ego to create sequences and wonder if anyone will show up to class. There are days when I wish for a classroom full of yogis, mats lined from wall to wall. That would all mean I’m a great teacher right? Yet most days, I sit on my mat in an empty room looking at myself in the mirror going over my sequence waiting for someone to show. 

If I put ego aside and if I’m really honest with myself, a room full of people would’ve been too much, too soon. Not only have I taken up teaching again, I’ve also taken up being a yogi. It’s been years since I’ve practice and often I don’t feel like I know enough or am flexible enough to be teaching. That amount of self doubt would have made me run the opposite direction if I had even just 10 students, let alone 30 show up.

This time of growth and patience is necessary. I’m improving my practice as a student and as a teacher simultaneously. In the yoga world  you’ll more than likely hear people say something along the lines of, “the way you show up to your mat is the way you show up to your life.” It sounds a little dramatic so I’ll unpack it for you. How often have you been in a situation where you know you need to do something that is good for you but never quite get there? There’s always a reason not to show up. Whenever I’ve invited people to class the typical response is, “I really need to stretch, I really should be going, but I’m not flexible…. it’s just too hard.” Ironically, I see some of these same people lifting 200+ lbs on a barbell.

This isn’t about not showing up for me or my class, it’s about not showing up for themselves. Yoga demands your attention. It requires you to bring your awareness to places in your body that you’ve neglected to address. We typically default our focus to the things we are good at, the places where we feel strong. Yoga digs deep; it expands places we want to keep hidden and closed. Even if you have made it to your mat, how deep you are willing to go before you tap out, is also a reflection of your mental strength when things get hard in the world outside your mat. How quickly do you succumb to chaos when you loose the rhythm of your breath? Yoga requires your focus in order to maintain balance, there is no multitasking. Imagine your mat as a mirror. Not everyone wants to see their reflection. 

When I saw that people weren’t showing up, I had a choice, I could sit there and lament or I could practice and go through the sequence as if I were teaching it to a group of people. All I need is practice and the commitment to continue to show up. I changed my sequences from elaborate and fancy to the basics. I just wanted something that felt familiar, something where I could feel grounded and could build upon.

So why am I talking about yoga on a blog about trails and journeys? The journey that happens between the four corners of a mat is worth a multitude of lifetimes. The evolution of a sequence takes you from child pose to balance to strength to ground to corpse pose and back to fetal position. It’s a cycle of life and rebirth. 

So in my epiphany of, “this is enough,” it made me think of Thin Sole as a mat or a platform of sorts where I have not bothered to even show up. Yet, have had such great expectations. Three years ago I created Thin Sole with so much love. In those three years, I’ve written a whopping 4 posts. The irony is that I write every day in my journal! So what the hell happened?! Writing, unlike art, for me was an easy outlet because it wasn’t precious. I could always go back and edit. I loved coming up with a thread of words that sounded well together. I loved writing metaphors and reliving (or living out) stories in my head. Yet, ever since creating Thin Sole, I was plagued with perfectionism, self-doubt and self-sabotage. I’d make excuses like, “I need to travel somewhere to have something interesting to talk about.” I climbed 14ers all last summer and didn’t write a single thing about any of those adventures. I’d dream up these grandiose schemes and plans, many of which I still plan to pursue, and just get overwhelmed by the task at hand. There was no feedback. I didn’t have readers. I started wondering if blogging was outdated. People don’t have time to read. My posts are too fucking long. I’m putting out too much personal information. No one cares. And my personal favorite, “I don’t have time,” AKA, “I’m too busy” or “next week for suuuuuure.”

So this is what yoga has taught me about writing — One student (reader) is enough, sometimes no one will show up but you practice anyway. So to my one reader, here’s to you, thank you for making the time to read my words.

I want you to imagine we’re meeting up in your favorite coffee shop to share a cup of tea or coffee. You pull out a wooden chair and sit at the table across from me. I’m so excited to tell you about my stories of travel, the hardships, the laughter and the earned wisdom I collected along the way. I also want to hear about your stories. What have you learned in your human experience? What paths have you taken?

Thin Sole is a play on words to thin soul. In our society we over-value and romanticize, “thick skin” and “old souls” — These people are impenetrable. They’ve done it all before. I am not one of those people. Much like walking barefoot on gravel, every step I take is an ungraceful step I feel. Unsteady and unbalanced. Thin sole means becoming aware and mindful of what path I choose to walk and how I do it. It’s about my footprints on this earth both environmentally and physically. To have a thin sole means to feel everything that you would have otherwise been oblivious to. Every little rock, every blade of grass and the emotions we allow ourselves to feel. It focuses on the inner journey and the self-awakening. My soul and mind are not calloused. I’ve made plenty of mistakes — some on repeat. I’ve gained so much from storytelling and learning about the adversities of others. I want to create an achieve of stories, mine and those of other, “thin soles,” who tread life through different trails and who walk the earth bravely and barefoot.

Welcome to the growing community of Thin Soles.