Beginning: You Have to Go Where You Can Help

I’m just about 4 months into my year of writing about new beginnings. This writing intention has brought a lot of clarity to every aspect of my life and as I look back on these four months of posts, I’m truly surprised to see all that I’ve been able to begin and how much I’ve been able to share about the beginnings of others. I feel more inspired by the topic of beginning than I have ever felt about any writing intention. Perhaps this is because the very word “beginning” carries with it one of my very favorite sentiments – hope.

With all these new beginnings, I’m focusing on how and where I’m of the best possible service. This means that some endings are within sight now, and with every ending there is some kind of sadness, some kind of mourning and loss. Endings are deaths, and they deserve to honored. Without them, we wouldn’t have new beginnings.

In the past few months I’ve been finding a number of opportunities to share my yoga practice and teaching. Some of those experiences have been more satisfying than others. Many times, I’ve been able to find people whom I can truly help. I am the right students for their needs at this time. And other times, I’m exerting a lot of effort to no avail. I just don’t have what some students need. I am not the right teacher for them, and so I need to release them in the hopes that they can find a new teacher.

This fact became apparent over the weekend as I taught a regular gig I’ve had for some time now. It was actually my very first teaching assignment after I finished my 200-hour certification. It’s a very long distance from my house and I’ve learned a lot there. I’m grateful for the time I’ve been able to spend with those students and all that they’ve taught me, but I can’t take them any further. I sat in the treatment room after both classes, took a look around and felt a profoundly peaceful feeling. My work is done there.

This is in complete contrast to the teaching I’ve done at Columbia Medical Center, Columbia Law School, at the New York Pubic Library, and with my handful of private students. In those situation I feel alive, and I know I have more to offer. In the situation over this past weekend, I could feel the book closing, could see the credits rolling. I just knew deep within my heart that I was needed elsewhere by other students.

For a moment I felt very sad. I wanted to make a bigger impact there. I had hoped for a longer amount of time with those students. I was reminded of a scene in You’ve Got Mail when Jean Stapleton says to Meg Ryan that closing her book store and starting fresh is the brave thing to do. The right thing to do. It was time to move on. And then I also thought of The Gambler by Kenny Rogers. “You gotta know when to fold ’em.” That made me giggle, but he’s right.

In my meditation later that day, I made sure to give thanks to this wonderful opportunity that was now past. I thought of each of my students and how much they helped me grow. They opened my eyes to the power of therapeutic yoga and all the gifts that it has to offer. I’m grateful that I had the time there, and will always be grateful for it. And now with that door closing, I see a new window opening already. We’re all needed somewhere.