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The sun was shining bright and my post-yoga-class limbs were loosened-up for a new day. The better news though, was that while leaving the studio I’d acquired a new mat.  “Oh my god!” she exclaimed, “As if the lost and found is for everyone’s free taking?” “Yeah,” I said hesitantly, still hoping to find the loophole that made me right. “Exactly.” Much to my dismay, the conversation joined a kitchen-wide conversation a few hours later, inviting a wider critique on my apparently pilfering ways (for which my shame gage was slowly rising). And although yes, moralistic lenses concluded, one could take from the lost and found, as if a dumpster of pearls to bless the public, no, that wasn’t the lost and found's intention. In short, I had seen something better than what I had. And wanted it. So took what wasn’t mine. I stole a yoga mat. Jason Mraz has been flooding my ipod lately, and especially his latest album: “We Sing, We Dance, We Steal Things.” This title isn’t pretty, and yet it’s human. It doesn’t justify the paradox of my being, and yet gives face to the truth of it: jubilant and pure hearted, while unjust and ego-driven, in the same moment. I rationalize rules (much unconsciously) to get my way, and compromise ways that create a new rule. Sometimes it frightens me to see such elementary pockets of my heart. And sometimes it refreshes me, permitting my paradoxes, and my continual needs for saving and conversion. (And for the record, I returned the lost mat to its bin. And sincerely hope the real owner finds it.) |
Comments
I love you. Thanks for your blatant honesty. Quite convicting.
As a fellow yogi, I can COMPLETELY understand how amazing and easily justifiable it was to take the mat. And I can also appreciate your willingness to be honest with your rough parts.
Word sister.
Abbie: This harshness isn't directed at you, but the point, I think is good.
I wrote this after a couple of whining, suffering alcoholics got caught breaking the rules and tried to first enlist the members of their community in a coverup, and then, tried to justify their shenannigans, and then, when they got caught and admitted their wrongdoing, tried to take credit for at least finally "gettin' honest and coming clean".
I thumbtacked this up on the hallway bulletin board with considerable warmth, as you can imagine! Imagine! Alcoholics and drug addicts not behaving the way I want them too!!! The nerve!!
YOU CANNOT BREAK THE LAW, YOU CAN ONLY BREAK YOURSELF AGAINST THE LAW
It does me no good to say a law or a rule is unjust after I have broken it.
It does me not one bit of good to scream that “gravity isn’t fair” after I’ve thrown myself off a cliff.
Honesty is not about “coming clean” after I’ve knowingly done something wrong. The worst of the damage has already been done!
Honesty isn't even about exercising restraint as a result of considering the consequences; People spend entire lifetimes damning any consequences for the immediate gratification of "whatever I want now". If I’m considering the consequences, it’s probably already too late.
Honesty, and while we’re at it, integrity (for in this matter these two principles are inseparable), is the simple act of approaching that bright line that I know absolutely separates right from wrong and saying:
“THIS THING I WILL NOT DO, BECAUSE IT IS WRONG IN AND OF ITSELF.”
If it's wrong, don't do it.
If it's not yours, don't take it.
If it's not true, don't say it.