I Keep Bumping into Myself

(Plus another yoga practice!)

Right now, my path through life is bumpy. I keep stubbing my toes and bashing my shins. The trail—the one that used to be smooth, packed earth—is interrupted over and over by roots, rocks, erosion, and brambles. Do you know what it is that I bump into the most, though? Myself. I can’t stop bumping into myself.

I bumped into myself today, when I found myself pushing, resisting rest, stubbornly insisting on doing more. I bumped into myself yesterday, when I heard my lips forming the word “yes,” while my heart throbbed a resounding “no.” I bumped into myself over the weekend, when my kids’ dad moved out and they spent their first few nights with him, and I realized how heavily I rely on the identity of ‘mother’.

Bump, bump, bump. It’s the way of long-haul Covid-19, and it’s the way of life. Life doesn’t stop just because we are sick . . . which frankly, is obnoxious. There are still bills to pay and children, pets, or parents who rely on us for care. There is still racism, sexism, and violence. There are still mosquitoes, telemarketers, traffic jams, and clogged toilets. Every time we are confronted with an obstacle—whether big or small, personal or systemic—we are also confronted with ourselves.

Bumping into ourselves isn’t always painful, though. It can also be funny, playful, curiosity-invoking, surprising, or interesting. It’s all a question of how we treat ourselves when the collision happens.

What do you do when you accidentally bump—or nearly bump—into someone else? Do you smile and laugh at the awkward side-to-side dance that ensues, as you try to find your way past one another? Do you pause to help them pick up whatever they may have dropped? Do you look them in the eyes? Or do you ignore them and keep talking on your cell phone? Do you bark at them to watch where they are going?

I’m trying not to bark at myself. I’m practicing smiling and laughing at the awkwardness of colliding with my humanness—with my fear, stubbornness, resentment, self-pity, insecurity, or pettiness. “Oops, I didn’t see you there!”

 “Yeah, that’s because you’ve been ignoring me,” my baser emotions answer. (Cheeky little assholes.)

I was in dialogue with one of these a few days ago—insecurity, I think—when I thought of Corona Café. I thought of all of you, and I realized that being reminded of my own humanness (bump!) is not such a bad thing. Why not? Because the loveliest kind of collision that happens between humans is when we see each other’s humanness—see one another with all our beauty and our warts—and accept one another just as we are.

So now you know, in case you didn’t already, that I am utterly human—tangled, flawed, imperfect. And even though you haven’t told me, I’m pretty sure you’re human, too. I’m pretty sure that no one can navigate the long-haul journey (or life) without bumping up against their own humanness. (If someone has managed it, I suspect they are a very dull person.) So maybe you’ve snapped at your family members or resented your healthy friends. Maybe you haven’t had the energy to contribute to the world in the ways you want to, and maybe that’s launched you into a pity party or a shame spiral. Maybe the shame loop is running on repeat.

Whatever your particular flavor of humanness is today, know that you’re not alone. We are all stubbing our toes, sweating, and swatting at mosquitoes. We are navigating this bumpy, long-haul path together.

For a little extra help connecting gently with yourself, check out this seated yoga practice!