The Up Side of Upside Down Reflections

I have always heard that inversion poses in yoga are rejuvenating for both the body and the mind.  However, it wasn’t until this evening at 11:42 p.m., in my bedroom on my yoga mat, doing my new  bedtime yoga sequence, when the “importance of the turning the world upside down daily”, made sense. I would even venture to call it a downward dog epiphany of sorts, as that was exactly what I was doing.  Eyes closed, taking long, deep breaths in downward dog.  Remembering the words of the yoga instructor on a DVD a friend burned for me, I open my eyes and look up towards my navel, relaxing into the pose even more, expecting to see the wall behind me. Instead, my eyes bring into focus nine little upside down boxes, eight of which are occupied by small upside down black hearts, while the ninth box holds the upside down word Simplify.  
 
I am momentarily confused, wondering if too much blood has rushed to by head, until I realize that I am, in fact, staring up at a tattered plastic bag that has been dutifully hanging from my doorknob, serving as a trash receptacle.  And I feel suddenly sheepish for never having seen it before.  Obviously, I must have handled this particular plastic bag on more than one occasion.  I mean, I carried something home in it.  It probably sat on the counter for a few days, then maybe spent some time in the small bin in the laundry room where we keep extra plastic bags. Then, at some point, I hung it on my doorknob.  Most likely during a random and rare housecleaning spree a while back. This would mean that countless times a day over the course of last few months in my waking life, lost in the business of coming and going and coming and going, my awake mind had registered and catalogued this plastic bag as a merely functional object; one dimensional, bare, void of detail and uniqueness, nothing that might warrant a closer look.  However, in my upside-down state, I was struck by the beauty of this plastic bag, hearts exposed, literally clinging to my doorknob with one handle, faithfully carrying out the function I had assigned to it. One handle is stretched almost to the point of breaking while the other handle hangs limp at its side, unable to relieve the stress.  
 
Some might say that a plastic bag is an unlikely and impossible messenger for simplicity.  Maybe even claim that it should be illegal to put hearts and feel good words on such inherently wasteful products, as it is yet another classic example of corporate America capitalizing on the piece of our consciousness that wants to proudly exclaims to the world, “Look at me! I am so into peace and love and simplicity. Look! I even have peace and love and simplicity on my plastic bags to prove it!”  I continue to breath in downward dog, staring up at this upside down bag covered in upside down hearts.  I am reminded of the short film, Plastic Bag, which explores the existential crisis of one particular plastic bag on its quest to find its maker. I begin to see that the upside down plastic bag kind of looks as if it in the middle of pulling a joyful, one-handed cartwheel. And it is saying to me, “Ok, so I am here to serve you for an eternity and I am willing to do so, of course, I mean, that is what  I am built to do so.  But let’s be honest, you don’t need me. You never needed me, or any of my brothers or sisters for that matter”.  
 
I find myself nodding my head in an affirming way, still in downward dog.  I suddenly think of the handmade cloth bag handing in my laundry room in the dark, that I brought all the way from Austin, Texas. My best friend Jen gave me at her first fair-trade sale at Café Mundi a few years back.  It  is ironically also covered in hearts, and has just been hanging out, waiting for me to open up my eyes. I wrap up the yoga mat and hop into bed. My right side up gaze falls again on the right side up heart covered Simplicity bearing plastic bag hanging from my doorknob.  I almost want to say goodnight to it. I think I will. It has been an unlikely but very patient, effective messenger.  In the end, it was I who had to change my perspective to be able to receive it.  
 
Sometimes it is easy to me to convince myself that change is too difficult, too complicated, too hard, too risky, too time consuming.  Sometimes it is easy for me to convince myself that there isn't a solution to a problem I am facing. In reality, surrendering to change is such a simple act, and it is always accessible to me. From any point on the globe, I can safely turn myself on my head and remain grounded.  Some call it gravity, others call it God, but either way, it is built into the system.  It is a force greater than myself, which allows me to gain a new perspective without having to fear that I might lose my balance and just float off in the process.  In this sense, it is funny how hard I actually have to work at being ungrounded. In the scheme of things, even my finest efforts to thwart this force can at best be short lived.  An integral part of my maintaining this sense of groundedness will be to cultivate a willingness to believe that teachers come in all forms, even the most unlikely or expected ones.  If I am willing to believe this, then maybe over time and practice, I will begin to hear when hate softly beckoning me to love, fear encouraging me to open, apathy urging me to take action, and maybe I might just take them up on it.