So… How come we all fain certainty when life is ambiguous. The “reality” is, none of us know. We don’t know anything for certain. We spend our lives, money, and time searching for answers. We want to figure out how the world spins, why we exist, and what the stars are made of—but we will never really know. So, why this obsession with “knowing” and “certainty”? The world is unknown because, I believe, there is no singular truth. Our brains are trained to fit thing into categories, but life does not fit into the constructed boxes of our minds.
We try to fit into these boxes. Our schooling creates basic patterns for lives to fall into. And one day, if you don’t fit into one of those constructed categories, you feel like who you are is “wrong”. You feel out of place. But nothing fits into one section. Everything is overlapping and blending in ways that we are simultaneously aware and unaware of. So, maybe by feeling “wrong”, you are really right.
One of my greater anxieties the last few years has been just this—not fitting into a predetermined pattern of behavior. I was never a normal college student that liked downing beers and bating eyes at fratty assholes. And I am not a hardcore dedicated Ashtangi either. I am me. I love my practice, I love pottery, I love playing in the mud, I love learning, I love interacting with people and exploring. I love more in life than my practice.
I partly think a lot of this confusion between my dedication to the practice and other parts of my life is why I like Kino so much– Ill admit, the first time I saw a Kino post, my tainted interpretation of what an Ashtangi should be thought, “ugh, another blond skinny person doing ‘yoga’ aka showing off her body for attention”. But Kino embodies embracing contradiction in order to honor she true self. She is the most dedicated practitioner I have ever heard of (I will admit, I am still very new to the practice, so I am certain there are many more), but she does not fit the perfect image of how an “Ashtangi” is suppose to be. She is her authentic self and uses her practice to honor that.
Rather than trying to be what I think a “perfect” Ashtangi is or “perfect” in my relationship with the practice, I am learning to accept that I do not fit into a fixed category (nor does such category even exist, it is really just a culturally constructed concept). My practice and my life do not have to fit into a fixed form. I can be me— I can embrace all parts of me in my practice. I do not need to force myself to give up who I am to be what I think I should be. Right now, my practice is teaching me to embrace not fitting into a fixed category.
Maybe that is arrogance. Maybe that is being new to the practice and not being able to see that my practice is the ocean, embodying the balance all parts of my life, just yet. Maybe I am still caught up in the waves— but right now, I do not feel like I fit one category or that there is one answer. I don’t know what I am. But I am.
I am the light, the light of my soul.
I am beautiful and bountiful and bliss
I am, I am.