I Totally Get It

"Well I don't know how you on earth you're going to manage two blogs, the Srividyalaya one and the YOU one, but you of the huge passion for this tradition and yoga will, I know, find a way..."

That's the opening line of the charming email I woke up to this morning.  I'm such a sucker for a powerful leading sentence.  I always have been.

As I read, I had to ruefully admit that this perceptive person had asked the exact thing I've been wondering myself:  "how am I going to manage all of it?"

(Warning:  busyness complaint impending.  Skip the next paragraph if you couldn't care less how busy I am.  I wouldn't blame you one bit if you did.) 

I have a substantial role in community building in not one but two studios; we're in the homestretch of the teacher training that I'm responsible for and while my fledgling teachers are doing so, so well, we still have much to do; I write this blog and now this blog, too (which, in time will feature guest writers and is going to be frigging awesome.)  I've committed to writing a book, and to doing a retreat in Mexico; I'm on the Srividyalaya staff and I've got a couple of other irons in the proverbial old fire, too.

All of these things take time.  It's a lot of time.

All too often, it seems, I race past my neglected yoga mat, where it stands looking forlorn, rolled up in the corner.  "I'll make it up to you, baby," I silently promise as I head right on out the door.

At some point, too, there was a personal life but it seems I've recently misplaced it.   If you should happen upon my personal life in some smoky, dimly lit underground bar, please tell it I miss it and I'm sorry I've neglected it, and to come home, won't you?

I'm pretty sure there's a mantra for creating more time but Dumbledore Douglas hasn't taught it to me yet. 

May I be brutally honest?  Long descriptions of people's busyness are tedious, aren't they?  Sorry to have inflicted mine upon you up there.  The only reason I mentioned it is so that when you tell me how busy you are, you'll know that I actually really do understand.

I'm so busy these days that I barely have time to pithily post amusing updates on my Facebook page. Speaking of The-Social-Network-That-Must-Not-Be-Named, I've been Facebooked with all kinds of questions about Srividyalaya. Most of those questions fall into the "I really want to do it but I'm so busy, too, and worried about committing my time. What should I do?", category. 

I totally get it. 

Me too.

(Also popular is the, "I can only do one course; which one should I do?" to which I reply, "I strongly recommend CC 101, the Intro to Yoga History and Philosophy, but do whichever you most want to do.  You won't misstep if you begin with Ganapati, either.")

My response to my own concerns, as well as to yours, about finding the time, is to treat an SV course in the same way we would treat an Anusara Immersion:  it's not going to be a grueling time-suck; like everything in the Rajanaka tradition, SV is an invitation that's entirely without obligation but that's full of value and power and meaning.

Do it because you're interested.

(If you are indeed interested, I mean.  I have zero intention of convincing the uninterested.  I am not about the hard sell, or the soft sell or about any sell of any kind.  I take freedom far too seriously to want to sell anything to anyone.  If the study of tantra isn't for you then by all means exercise your freedom and go where your interest lies.  I applaud you. I mean simply to address the concerns of those who yearn to visit our Hogwarts but have apprehensions about time management.)

Do as much or as little as you want to do, or as fits into your schedule. There are no grades and no exams.  The lectures will be recorded and archived so we can listen when it works for us.

The reading is all optional.  The last thing I want to do is tarnish my self-bestowed Rajanaka Prom Queen tiara, but I may not have time to do all the reading.  I'll do what I can without making myself nuttier than I already am.  I'm pretty sure Dumbledore Douglas won't be disappointed in me.

You don't need to be a genius.  Lord knows I'm not.

I'm offering a paradoxical encouragement to both myself, and to you, see:  firstly, settle down.  This is nothing to get worked up about.  You love this stuff, remember?  Enjoy.  Go at your own pace.  Have fun.  That's the point.

Also, too, (and may I be blunt?  I feel comfortable with you):  Step Up.  Winning golden tickets of entry aren't handed out just every day.  Rise to the occasion; no one who rises to an occasion regrets it.  It's the occasions we don't rise to that we lament.

That's all I've got.  Forgive me for offering this assurance in the form of a blog post rather than a personal response to your email but it's a far more efficient way for a busy person to get things done, and I am nothing if not busy (;