Community

It is paradoxical to think that in a city full of people, a person can feel so alone. But as I navigate through a sea of people on a daily basis, alone is exactly how I sometimes feel. Here in New York, where people walk down the street with blank expressions, avoiding eye contact, and where the only touch is an unwelcome bump or nudge in a crowded subway car, it is easy to feel as though everyone is a stranger. 

Even within the yoga "community," I have often voiced the complaint that we all show up on our mats, do our practice and then leave. "Not much of a community, if you ask me," I always say. "I don't even know the names of the people who put their mats down next to me on a daily basis. Humph!"  (Of course, if you asked me whether I ever took the initiative to introduce myself to my neighbor, the answer would be "no." But it's much easier to project this lack of social skills on others rather than own it, now isn't it?)

When I'm not experiencing that inexplicable sense of aloneness in yoga class, my feeling of isolation in the world at large usually takes the following course: a common thought that pops into my head in a group of people I am assessing (aka judging-the-hell-out-of) is, "none of these people are into yoga/meditation/spirituality..." As these concepts and practices are of utmost interest and importance to me, the follow-up thought to this, recited straight from the annuls of my turbulent teens is, "no body understands me. I am completely alone." 

When something persistent and pervasive appears in my life such as this, and I find myself pointing the finger at everyone else, I sometimes have the good judgment to stop and ask myself, "is it them, or is it really me?" While I rarely like the answer to this question, the same courage that is required to ask the question in the first place is often enough to get me through the answer... "it's me." 

Upon reflection, I've been forced to notice my tendency to pull the curtains around myself and then exclaim into the darkness, "I'm alone!" With recognition of this rather peculiar behavior, I've benefited from a softening of my judgements of others, and with this softening, more light has filtered in...

I can't tell you how many times recently someone I once judged as a-spiritual has surprised me by sharing some aspect of themselves and their spirit that I previously never saw (but am sure was really there all along). Once I let go of my preconceived notions, I was shocked to realize how many people around me are engaged, at various levels, in a deeper inquiry into themselves.

From this realization, I gained another insight, which was that in addition to judging the person as spiritual or not, yogic or not, I was also judging what "spirituality" looks like. 

Although not everyone practices yoga, I've become increasingly attuned to hearing friends and acquaintances describe a spiritual connection to their love of biking, cooking, music, dancing.... One of my dear friends has found a profound connection to Spirit through Narcotics Anonymous meetings, while another has a somewhat secret, strong family background in a certain faith that they hold most dear. A busser at work shared with me the meditative aspects of his life back home in Nepal, while a few days prior, one of our managers held a positivity circle during our staff meeting. 

When I stop expecting Spirit to look like a certain thing, or belong to a certain type of person, I realize it is everywhere. When I stop seeing myself as separate from the sea of people swirling around me, I recognize we are all moving in the same tide. When I pull back the curtains I've drawn around me, I see I'm a part of an 8 million person-strong community. I begin to see that there are no strangers, just seekers I haven't met yet.