The man in the red yoga shorts was in class again on Thursday. I wasn't the only one looking.
None of us, I assure you, were staring with pleasure. He was wearing the traditional yoga shorts that no doubt were the inspiration for European bathing trunks, the kind regretfully worn only by old German men who you wish wouldn't. These were red, very short, slightly baggy, and unadorned by, say, a shirt.
Now, one might take this opportunity to imagine a sort of Brad-Pitt-as-the-hot-hitchhiker-in-Thema-and-Louise type. Or maybe even Lt. Daniels from The Wire. (Seriously, that guy is CUT.) Alas, one's imaginings would be rudely interrupted by a slightly flabby, kind of hairy, sweaty middle-aged guy wearing nothing but tiny red yoga shorts. In other words, exactly the kind of person you wish wouldn't.
I glanced at him, then looked away, embarrassed for the guy. Around me, the room was full of similar head jerks accompanied by a slight snicker. Seeing two women looking at each other in shared amusement, I was struck by how very un-yoga-like we were being.
Yoga is precisely about non-judgment, about acceptance, about kindness. And here I was, stepping right into the camaraderie that comes with judging someone else.
I'm grateful that I saw myself in this moment, and that I put a little bit of energy into opening my heart to this man's intentions (even if I do think one might consider the folks on adjoining mats when deciding not to wear something to soak up one's sweat). Not only because it was the right thing to do, but because, as I've spent the past couple of weeks writing this blog, I've become more and more aware of just how crucial non-judgment is when you're a new (or not so new) mother.
The Power of Non-Judgment
Sit through one meditation practice, try one asana practice, and you immediately get why non-judgment is so central to yoga. Take me in meditation: Two or three seconds of a quiet mind. Random thought, usually about Jake. Gentle reminder to let the thought go. Maybe another second during which I do let the thought go. Unknown amount of time thinking about Jake's smile and the way he was dancing with his pink and camouflage soccer ball this morning. Harsher reminder to my mind to shut the f*&^#k up. Remainder of meditation time feeling bad about yelling at myself and worse about my utter inability to meditate.
Getting tangled up in judging myself for not being able to meditate is, of course, what makes me not able to meditate in the first place.
In this culture of success, all of us think we have the ability to do anything we set our minds to. Which means that if we were really good mothers, we would be able to keep our children healthy and happy and occupied and never upset while magically flourishing in our careers and personal lives and, by the way, never ever losing our patience. You laugh, perhaps, but I'll bet it's the nervous, guilty laughter of someone uttering a mea culpa. We know it's ridiculous to expect such things of ourselves, yet we do it anyhow.
And in the doing, we JUDGE ourselves. It's impossible not to.
Luckily, yoga is a practice, not a completion. We get the chance to practice non-judgment every time we notice the person on the next mat nonchalantly folding her legs up in lotus pose as we try in vain to get one ankle to meet the opposite hip. We can choose to berate ourselves for a shortcoming that: a) isn't our fault, and b) makes absolutely no difference in our lives. (Really. I have been able to do lotus my whole life, and I can't point to one situation where it's come in handy.) Or we can refuse to judge ourselves, do what we are able, and, one day, notice that we are able to do much more. Eventually, we might even make it into lotus pose. (Not that it matters, of course.)
The point is, sometimes we judge, sometimes we don't. But we always practice.
So, for example, I saw the man in the red yoga shorts and immediately thought, "What does he think he's doing?" Sorry. Couldn't help it. I really am fascinated by what he might have been thinking when he put those shorts on, by how he avoids the overwhelming self-consciousness that would consume me if I found myself wearing something so obviously ill-suited to the circumstances.
But then I had a chance to practice non-judgment. Both refusing to judge him and, just as importantly, declining the opportunity to judge myself for judging him in the first place. And that moment was far more important than the moment when I proved myself to be, guess what, a human being who sometimes judges other people.
And here's an amazing, beautiful benefit of actively practicing non-judgment: It makes you realize that other people are capable of it as well. So yesterday, when I was feeling a bit off in my practice, I let myself rest in child's pose without anxiously berating myself that the other students were going to look at me and think I was some kind of a weakling. After all, I wasn't wearing little red yoga shorts or anything.
Non-judgment, I guess, begets non-judgment, the same way opening your heart to others opens you to other people's heart energy as well.
Why Non-Judgment Is Especially Important for Mothers
My first thought when I caught myself judging the man in the red yoga shorts was how much I would hate for Jake to feel constrained not to be himself for fear of others judging him.
It's easy now to smile at the under-two's in his class wearing mis-matched clothes, gender-inappropriate accessories, and Play-Doh in their hair. Part of the pleasure of developing little people is that they haven't learned the rules yet. For a short time, they can be purely, innocently honest in actions that they will one day soon shirk for fear of not fitting in.
But what if Jake becomes one of those kids who marches to the beat of a different drummer? What if he gets into Dungeons and Dragons and starts wearing a black cape to high school and strides around sunk into his own space because everyone else is laughing at him? What if he becomes one of the shameless computer nerds who laughs too loudly at jokes about source code that no one else gets or wants to? What if he's a goth or a hillbilly or just that kid who picks his nose when he thinks no one else is watching?
Sadly, if he is any of these things he will have a difficult adolescence. But is it my job as his parent to reinforce the sad contempt of society for anything that's different? Or is it to support him in being the individual he is, to help him follow his heart, wherever it leads him?
I'm not setting those two choices up to show that one is the obviously correct answer. All parents have times when the right choice is to offer guidance, to lead their children down the path that we think will make them safest, happiest, most successful -- whatever it is we find key in our own lives.
The thing is, I had parents who steered me down the safe path, and I didn't like where it put me. Law school was safe. But my heart wasn't anywhere in it.
So obviously I'm drawing on my own life experiences as much as the teachings of yoga when I suggest that to me, part of good parenting is supporting my child in whatever he wants to be, even if I really, really hope he never wears a black cape to school.
Because a big part of yoga is learning to follow your heart. And you can't do that if you're too busy judging yourself for what your heart might urge you to do.
Not Judging Ourselves as Mothers
There's another, even more immediate piece of my choice not to judge the man in the red yoga pants: Not wanting to be so judged myself.
We've heard it as long as we can remember in a million different ways: Do unto others . . . Don't ask someone to do something you wouldn't do yourself . . . How would you like it if . . .? But does it really sink in? Really?
When Jake was an infant, we had serious breastfeeding issues. He wasn't nursing properly. I wasn't producing enough milk. I was feeling like a failure, sleep-deprived, hysterical. And supplementing him with formula. Lots and lots of formula.
Before giving birth, it had never occurred to me that some women don't breastfeed because they can't. I was reading magazines and going to breastfeeding classes that all made it perfectly clear: a good mother breastfeeds her child. If she doesn't, she condemns him to allergies and illnesses and stupidity and obesity and bad eyesight. Who wouldn't judge a mother who would do such a thing to her child?
Since I was so ready to judge, it was plain to me that other people were as well. I was certain that every time I pulled out a bottle in public I was garnering stares of approbation from people who thought I was a bad mother. Judging others begets being judged yourself. "It's not like that!" I wanted to yell. "I really try to breastfeed! I'm not a bad mother!" Except that I thought I was.
I'm certainly not the first to say it, but it bears repeating. If you judge other mothers, you should be ready to be judged yourself. And not just by them -- by yourself.
Which is, after all, the last thing we need when we're already doing the best we can.
Non-Judging Balasana (Child's Pose) and Sasangasana (Rabbit Pose)
It seems like I'm always saying, "You can practice this concept in any yoga pose." Duh. So I'll stop saying it. And I won't judge myself for repeating the obvious a few too many times.
But there are poses that remind us to be humble, which, I think, is a way of reminding us not to judge others. After all, judging someone else is a way of trying to make ourselves feel somehow better than them. Or, I suppose, just better. Which shows that the more apt we are to judge other people, the less certain we are of ourselves.
The greatest pose of humility, of course, is child's pose. I recommend doing it some time in the midst of a competitive class. Just show you can drop out.
Balasana (Child's Pose)
1) Kneel on your mat with your knees together, and sit on your heels. If this is uncomfortable for you, experiment with placing a blanket or bolster between your thighs and calves or a rolled-up blanket between the tops of your feet and the floor.
2) Lean forward so your torso drapes over your thighs, and rest your forehead on the floor. Let your arms drape by your sides, palms facing the ceiling in a gesture of reception. Or, if that's uncomfortable, rest them overhead on the floor in front of you.
3) Another possibility, depending on how you're built, is to spread your knees apart (keeping your toes touching) and rest your torso between your legs, supported by resting just a bit on your thighs.
4) The point here is to let your forehead sink into the floor. Let the pressure of the floor on your third eye chakra quiet the judgments arising in your mind -- whether of yourself or someone else. Let the humility of resting your forehead on the floor bring peace to your mind. Let go of caring what anyone else thinks about you. Let go.
Sasangasana (Rabbit Pose)
For a stronger, more active, more opening asana that grows from balasana, try the following. Note that you will be on the crown of your head, so be aware of any neck issues you might have. You will also be opening your heart, which isn't always so easy to do when you're in a humbling posture. So don't judge yourself if you don't feel ready for this one. But do let yourself try it some other time; give yourself credit for being able to grow.
1) Start in balasana (child's pose).
2) Place your forearms on the floor by your head, with your palms even with your ears.
3) When you are ready, press your palms into the earth, contract your abdominals, lift your hips, and roll onto the crown of your head. Your knees remain on the floor. Note how you have to activate your core to do this pose -- your fire, determination, base energy. What a gift to unleash this passion in the service of humility.
4) If you feel steady enough, clasp your hand together behind your back. Ideally, your palms should remain touching to prevent strain in your wrist and elbow joints, even if you have to bend your elbows to get them to touch.
5) As you are able, straighten your arms, pulling the palms of your hands strongly together, and start to draw your hands in the direction of your head, as if drawing a line on the ceiling. You may not make it very far, and you shouldn't care. You are opening your heart, a vulnerable place to be.
6) Keep lifting from your core, both to protect your neck and to protect your spirit.
7) After a few deep breaths, release your hands and sink back into child's pose. Let go of anything you may have released.
It's intense, sasangasana, so take some time in balasana to recover. An remember to practice a little mental balasana whenever the intensity of life and all its judgments demands it.
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