It is hard for me to believe that the time has arrived to write my last blog post of the year. Time has moved quickly, yet at the same time, so much has been accomplished, so many friendships have been built, such deep learning has been achieved. There is much to celebrate and so many memories behind us.
When I began to reflect on what might have been left unsaid, what story left untold, my mind kept drifting to an experience that I recently had in yoga. As background, I began to do yoga three years ago and it quickly shifted from a casual interest to a real passion. For the first 6 months or so, I was satisfied if I could simply follow along. When my errors weren’t glaring and losing my balance did not draw the attention of my classmates, I was satisfied. But as I began to have more classes under my belt and began to learn the vocabulary of yoga, I felt my attitude shift. At some point I ceased working under the banner of “just beginning, I stink, but I love it” and became invested – and consequently more judgmental when I was unable to achieve a pose, and more frustrated when my balance would falter or my coordination was compromised. I would hear the words of my yoga teachers urging her students to quiet the judgmental mind and to keep our focus on our own mats. Could I resist noticing the person next to me as she would lift herself into a handstand with every chaturanga? Could I avoid feeling crestfallen as I would lower from a headstand after but a brief balance, while my neighbor could not only remain still but also maneuver his legs above him while upside down?
With practice I got better at staying internally focused, more confident about my own ability, and more clear about identifying my own next challenge. I began to understand the general flow of the class and saw steady progress, as I slowly moved from being a novice to being an intermediate practitioner. But there was one exception – the crow pose, also called bakasana. The crow pose involves balancing your torso and legs on the backs of your upper arms, and suspending yourself in a curled up position several inches above the ground. Now, while this pose may not be easy for anyone, I was stuck. I was learning all of the other poses – but not crow pose. I would watch my friends steadily progress, holding this pose for increasing periods of time. Patience, practice, deep breaths I kept telling myself. But for more than two years, I could not balance for more than one second. I kept imagining the time when I would “get it”, when I could achieve this difficult pose, master it, and use it as a metaphor for all the benefits of hard work and patience.
But here’s the thing… I still have not mastered this pose. I can now hold the position for a few seconds, sometimes slightly more. But it continues to be a challenge, and remains that moment in my yoga class when I gasp, and grip, and pray! Some days are better than others, and there is some progress but mostly I repeatedly bump into my limitations. This is not easy!
So what does my yoga practice have to do with the end of the year? Well, I suppose that I wanted to just acknowledge that at this ending, when we are all celebrating accomplishments, goals met, and milestones achieved, there may also remain those parts of this journey that remain incomplete. You might have hoped your child would have been more deeply integrated into that group of girls in her class, that your child would be able to recognize all of their letters, or that they would no longer have the speech delay that they began with in September. There may be unmet fantasies for you as parents as well – you had hoped to find a close friend in your class, you had hoped to get more involved in the PA but never found the time, you had hoped you would feel less ambivalent about the Kindergarten where your child is enrolled for September. Feeling this sense of incomplete is not easy, as we all have such high expectations for ourselves, our children and our schools. And we may wonder whether we could have done something differently to have changed the current outcome.
Our work is not done and the fact that school comes to a halt next week does not mean that our dreams die or that every aspect of this experience can be wrapped up in a bow. As I struggled with my yoga pose, I kept hoping it would offer me a different kind of newsletter – the one about how practice and persistence breed results. And while I remain an advocate of hard work and repetition as cornerstones of achievement, I am reminded of the nuances.
As we come to these final days my hope for all of us is a bit of compassion, for ourselves, for our children and for our teachers. There is so much to celebrate and there are so many achievements to acknowledge. At the same time, looking forward, there is work ahead. Hopefully while recognizing the journey ahead, we can also appreciate where we are and all that has brought us to this day.
I wish you all a summer brimming with laughter, joy, health and relaxation. I look forward to seeing many of you in September and hearing reports from the rest of you!
Shabbat Shalom
Ilana received her B.A. from Harvard College and a Master's Degree in Education from Bank Street College. She was born and raised on the Upper West Side of Manhattan and now lives there with her husband and three children.
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