Please, Don't Hit the Pillows

I'm in Hobart at the moment. Hobart, Tasmania, Australia. It's lovely. Cool, not cold, somewhat of a frontier feel to it. I like it. I'm here to study with Judith Lasater, who I only just recently encountered thanks to the Anusara required reading list (Relax & Renew), and a recent email exchange with fellow yogin BJ Galvan and Clare Raffety. 

So I'm here, I've completed my first day, and I'm stunned. Not so much by what she is teaching (the content is superb of course) but how she is teaching it. A stronger "seat of the teacher" I've never seen. She is firm, but kind. She is strong, yet soft. She is clearly the teacher, but I'm not less because I'm the student. She is here to serve, and I am uplifted. She is of such quality that I'm deeply honored to be at her feet. I am blessed.

Her husband Ike is teaching a course on nonviolent communication. Sort of an extra scoop (or cherry) on top of the yoga. Judith employs this communication technique in her instruction and I can attest that it is what makes her such a powerful and efficacious teacher. However, I'm attending Ike's course not because of Judith's example, but rather because shortly after I heard about it (last night) I had an acute experience of why I needed it.

Lynda, one of my classmates shared the airport shuttle with me. We were both exhausted from a long day's travel, and were musing over the smallness of Hobart. She mentioned Ike's course and I said, "I should attend. I have a tendency to use violent metaphors, and language, not because I want to inflict violence, but because I'm using the extreme for an effect or I think it is funny to do so. It works alright for people who know me, who understand my sense of humor, but for people who don't, for example my yoga students, I'm concerned it may be off putting." 

Not 10 minutes after I said this, as I got out of the shuttle and waved goodnight to Lynda who shouted "Have a nice rest!" I said, "Oh I will, I'm going to hit the pillow hard."

No sooner had the words left my mouth then I felt the impact of what I had said. It was exactly the type of violent statement I wanted to be rid of. And for the first time I understood why. It left a feeling I couldn't describe.  

Judith described the feeling very accurately in class this morning. She told us that the things we say leave a residue. A signature of sorts that hangs about. The residue I created by saying "hit the pillow hard" was sadness. I knew I didn't really want to hit anything, and could have created a very different residue by saying, "Oh I will, I will lay my head sweetly on my pillow in gratitude." What a palpable difference! I injured myself by expressing my need for softness by pummeling it! Hard!

OK! I'm learning! I realized through this experience that my violent language isn't only painful to people who don't know me well, or even those who do. It is painful to myself.