Late Woman Lessons Continue

Since Thursday I've done everything short of an exorcism to get Late Woman out of my mind. I've prayed and meditated and sought advice from cooler heads than mine. But then I seemed to keep inviting her back in. Not on purpose, but my brain had decided this was a problem that needed solving–by me, and fast–and was not willing to let go.

I have lots of knowledge and I've listened to much wisdom. I could easily explain her presence in my life with every single one of my recent (and even not-so-recent) spiritual lessons. I tried to apply them all, from looking for my shadow in her to offering her compassion and forgiveness. And yet I woke up this morning (way earlier than I wanted) with the she's-messing-with-my-practice-I-know-it's-not-her-I'm-too-pissed-to-do-anything-that-would-help-heal-please-tell-me-what-to-do-and-how-to-do-it loop filling my brain.

If there's one thing I've learned in the last few years, it's that until my feelings quiet, it's best for me to wait before taking action. So I went to yoga this morning, praying she wouldn't be there on a Sunday (it's starting to look like she goes every day, or maybe she just has this crazy radar that sends her there only on the days I go). And if the answer to that prayer was no, sending a backup prayer that the Divine would create a miracle in which I became Mother Mary when Late Woman invaded my space again.

Then I rehearsed what it would look like, and what I would say, if I picked up my mat and walked out of class when she got too close to me again. Mature. Healed. Divine. The story loop in my head was not concerned with any of those things. Making her stop. Being right. Anger gone. That's what my brain was going for.

I was the second one in the studio this morning (and no, I didn't go early, thank you for asking). My favorite spot in the right front corner was open. Late Woman almost always goes for the middle, so I felt like I'd created a reprieve for myself.  The heat felt just right, the teacher was Eric who always makes us laugh, and I settled in to savasana happily to wait for the start of class.

I felt her energy the minute she opened the door, although I didn't believe at first it was her. She walked in with a smile, left over from the laugh she and the teacher had just shared in the lobby. Made her way front and center, plopped down her mat, forcing the woman on her right to shift toward me, and lay down in savasana. On time. Still no sense of personal space (the entire back of the room was empty). But on time. And not on top of me.

Lying there stunned, I found myself wanting to laugh, really laugh, for the first time in days. Just that fast, I had clarity and peace. Her coming late is not a campaign to drive me crazy, any more than her lack of personal space radar is. It's probable I'm not the only person who had problems with her behavior. She's not my problem to solve, or even my enemy. She's just a woman, like me, trying to find her way in the world.

During class she cracked a joke with the teacher that I appreciated and laughed at, even knowing it was her joke. 

I felt, maybe for the first time ever, that I was being offered a new way of learning. That perhaps the lessons I'm always looking for in life's events don't have to involve pain and suffering and huge gut-wrenching cold-sweat-inducing actions on my part. Maybe, just maybe, doing or being enough is way way less than I ever imagined.

I can't tell you for sure what I'll do Tuesday when she comes in late and sets up way too close to me, but I'm pretty sure I can promise the event won't hijack the entirety of my focus for the days that follow. Progress. Slowly. Slowly. 

Picture from Flickr. 
"Slowly. Slowly." from Carrie