I go to yoga whenever I can, whenever inertia does not get the best of me. Not only is it good for my high-water bootie (my hairdresser SueAnn remarked today that I have a butt like no white girl she’s ever seen, which I’m hoping is a good thing), but also, sometimes the teacher will say something in passing but it will stick to me in the most profound way.
Last week Shad spoke about “radical acceptance.” He was initially referring to accepting how our bodies were feeling as we dragged them in on Saturday morning. Stiff, creaky, perhaps a teensy bit hungover, whatever. Then he went on to talk about how once you fully and totally accept something, you can begin to change it and move forward. Actually, actively NOT accepting a situation or a person or even a bum leg takes quite a bit of energy, because you aren’t moving forward.
I love the idea of applying radical acceptance in other ways. Maybe I should accept that I’m 40 and it may be a little late in the game to have a baby — and then I can move on toward getting myself set up to adopt. Or be the best auntie ever. Or I could radically accept that my brother and I won’t have the same relationship we used to before our dad died, and stop trying to act like it will get back to normal. Maybe if I radically accept that we are different, as indiviudals and as a family, then I can move toward making a new and different relationship with him. And then there’s radically accepting that I may never look good in a tiny black and floral silk miniskirt that’s a half-size too small that I’ve held on to for three years. Once I accept that and get rid of it, I can move on and find something more suitable.
What should you probably accept in the most radical of ways?