Who Has Road Rage? Heidi Did...

I spend a lot of time in my car. Not only do I commute from Danbury to Norwalk to practice, assist, and teach yoga, but I also travel around my surrounding area to teach various fitness classes. Because of the time spent behind the wheel, I’ve developed an emotional relationship with my car, my route to and from Norwalk, and other drivers on the road. My drive home from Norwalk usually goes as follows: after a beautiful practice at the Joint, calming meditation in savasana, and catching up with friends in the community, I walk serenely to my car in the parking lot and begin the long drive home. As soon as I put my car into gear I become a completely different person.

I am no longer serene. I am no longer thoughtful, self aware, conscious of how I treat others, and I am no longer patient. I realized last weekend, as I was slumped in the driver’s seat, twisted up in a rage because the 30 cars in front of me on Route 7 were all going 5 miles per hour slower than the speed limit, that I was so focused on getting home to my fiancée and pajamas that I was wasting whole hours of my day being frustrated.

Here I was, grimacing, hunching, staring maniacally at the taillights in front of me, wishing that SOMEONE would PLEASE pull over and let me through. All of a sudden I took a breath, I looked to the left and saw trees. It’s October in Connecticut (is it possible I didn’t realize it was autumn while in my car?), and it’s beautiful. The leaves are changing color, the air has that special crisp quality to it, and a great song was playing on the radio. Why was I wasting time being miserable?

I rolled my window down. I turned the radio up. I sang along. I breathed into a more relaxed position. I promised to enjoy my present situation, no matter what was happening or where I was, because no matter what position I’m in, there are beautiful and inspiring moments in it. All the way home to Danbury I practiced my yoga.

The very next day my fiancée and I decided to get a flu shot together. We drove to the local clinic and got in line. I brought out my phone and checked the time…I looked up and smilingly said to him, “why do you think I like timing things so much?” He turned and replied, “Because you’re impatient.” Ah. I’ve already broken my promise. Here I have my honey right next to me; why am I worried about how long this will take? I may not be perfect, I may slip up, but it is the return to knowing that is the promise. It’s okay if I forget sometimes; I just need to keep reminding myself to look around, open up, and let yoga in.