On Day 1 of our 40-Day Journey to Personal Revolution, a program offered by my local yoga studio twice a year, our facilitator (one of two) is a therapist and a yoga teacher who isn't there to shoot the breeze: "Stand in two rows facing each other. Each person will state his or her top-line intention for embarking on this journey, then take one step over and repeat the intention to the next person, until the intention has been repeated 39 times. Make direct eye contact while stating your intention. Do not look away or fill the space with witty banter. We know you're funny. Stay focused. Repeat your intention."
When I get to Bailey (we'll call her), who is pierced, pissed, and tatted up, she states, unblinking: "I'm here to forgive myself for all the big mistakes and fucked up choices I've made."
I'm not following instructions, but rather taking in her incredible tattoos.
"You?" she says.
"Oh, yeah," snapping to, "I'm here because I'm turning 50 this year and want to see what it feels like to truly nurture myself, let go of that which no longer serves me and meet like-minded people." Comprehensively vanilla and she knows it.
"That's three things," she says, allowing an arresting, unexpected smile that belies the angry, 20-something eyes.
"Right. Okay, I'm here for the same reason you're here."
"We probably all are," she shrugs, looks away.
Teachers come in all stripes, I think.
While my intentions evolved over the course of the month-plus path, in the end ... Bailey proved prophetic.
More tk ...