No More Training Bra for the Mind

Today some of "little girl Carly" disappeared. About 15 minutes before having to teach YTT sadhana, a glass bottle broke and I got tiny shards in my heel and finger. They were so small I didn't even feel that I was bleeding. All the other assistants rushed to help, to clear glass and to bandage me up. I felt calm and still. I felt trust and support. I was trusting and allowing them to take care of what needed to be done in terms of myself and in terms of the room to prepare. Never once did the thought of flee, or bail or poor me cross my mind. I didn't even mention it in the centering. I didn't want the attention to be on the idea of heroic me coming through some wound and presto chango, super yoga teacher. Hardly. I am tired of playing the role of the role of myself. I knew I had it in my heart of what I wanted to radiate towards these students and I wasn't going to give in to fear or let that voice be clouded over by some smaller, whinier me. And so grown up calm professional Carly put on the Madonna mic and told the story of how yoga made her boobs smaller.