No mud? No lotus.

The phrase: No mud, no lotus comes from the late Vietnamese monk and mindfulness teacher and author, Thich Nhat Hanh, who passed in 2022. His transformative book, “No Mud, No Lotus” can be found here.

Five years ago, if you told me I’d be able to get myself into a half lotus, I’d have laughed in your face.

I never thought I could get into a half lotus pose because, like most of us sitting humans, I have tight hips. My knees would hurt when I went into a seemingly simple, figure-four pose. When I started yoga, I could hardly touch the mat.

Believe it or not, the hardest parts of yoga aren’t on my mat. They’re off my mat. Learning which stories are coming out of the kleshas: ego, avoidance, ignorance, attachment or fear - and then unlearning those - are the hardest parts of my practice.

Kleshas, a Sanskrit word for the suffering in the stories we tell ourselves - such as ignorance, ego, avoidance, attachment, fear - hold us back from experiencing reality as it is.. Instead of flowing through life and accepting whatever comes our way, the mental clutter of thoughts like, “If only I hadn’t lost my job…” or “If only I could fix everyone and everything.” keep us stuck fighting with life, instead of flowing with it.

But when I’m on my mat, I learn the awareness (Svadhyaya) of how my body, breath and mind are feeling; where it feels tight, restless, or tired and stressed; whether my breath feels deep and calm or fast and uneasy. I learn which mental blocks hold me back and how to let go.

And, five years later, I’ve gotten closer than I ever thought: my left knee can go into half lotus. My right leg still has a long way to go. And that’s okay.

What’s more important is how I’ve learned to deal with the kleshas since starting my practice. And I’ve been dealing with the kleshas a lot, lately.

Forced to start over after being laid off from my nonprofit job and grieving the loss of safety and security, my nervous system and emotions went into overdrive as I struggled with worry, doubt, ignorance and attachment to outcomes. And let’s be honest: my ego, too.

In true klesha fashion, I avoided grief like the plague. I immediately ignored the reality of my situation as I launched a yoga business and started working with my friend and mentor, a court reporter, to proofread transcripts. I poured lots of time, money and energy into these likely, too soon, too fast. And, to my dismay, I filed for unemployment.

It now means a lot more when there isn’t immediate attendance in new classes I’ve just launched; there’s my attachment at work.. When I post a photo or video that I’ve worked hard on, and there are only a few likes; there’s my ego at work. The ignorance in putting tasks like getting my business plan together off (that’s for tomorrow) after I’ve already launched.

There isn’t anything inherently wrong with my actions. It’s only natural to go into survival mode and jump into action to protect yourself when you’ve lost a safety net.

I’m also relieved not to feel the pressure of being at work every day. My days, routines and workflow are more fluid now, even if they are busier than ever. (Imagine that: unemployed and busier than ever).

It’s the stories I’m telling myself, and even more important, believing them, that are at the root of the kleshas. It’s the misperception of reality. And if I’ve learned anything from working on transcripts with my court reporter friend, it’s that our minds love playing tricks on us.

Part of what I’m learning, in addition to proofreading, is how to scope a transcript of a deposition, meaning, I listen to audio while reading the words that the court reporter has translated to find out if there are any missing words. The trickiest part is actually not listening to the audio as you’re reading what’s on the page. Otherwise, “hue” can easily be misinterpreted for “you,” and you’d never know the difference. (Until you listen to it again. Or the reporter catches it. Right now, it’s usually the latter.)

You can’t edit the transcript based on how you hear it or interpret it because the whole document is meant to be read, not heard, for attorneys or judges if it goes to court and is requested. Court reporters also play a non-partial role in the process: if a witness is clearly on drugs during their deposition, the transcript must read as such without ever making a side note or comment that the witness is not of sound mind.

So, one misperception of a word, punctuation error, or grammar could change the trajectory of how it’s interpreted by others. In some (but rare) cases, court reporters have been sued because a punctuation error implied an entirely different statement than what the attorney or witness meant.

At this point, I’m sure you’ve had enough understanding of court reporting for one day, but it furthers my point: what we hear and see is entirely different from what someone else hears and sees an event. At the end of the day, we all have to make peace with what we interpret, what we don’t, and how we act based on those beliefs, regardless of the reality of the situation.

In other words, it’s almost impossible to see reality as it really is until we’ve taken a step back and reflected. Hindsight is 20/20, after all.

When we’re in a state of misperception, it’s the attachment to perfection, achievement, ego, ignorance, or avoidance that holds us back.

If I’d kept holding onto the story that I could never achieve a full lotus pose, I would have never tried. I might have tried too hard out of ego, but, I still tried.

I wish I could tell you the kleshas were easy to work through. I wish I could tell you that the lotus pose is easily accessible for most people.

They are both a constant practice. I’m not forcing myself into a half or full lotus pose daily, twisting my body into a position it’s not ready for. I may not ever achieve it. I’ve accepted that. I’m also not giving up hope or refusing to practice it because I can’t achieve it yet.

I learn what my body and can and can’t handle each day I step on the mat. Whether my life feels all over the place or not, I grow just a little bit closer to my physical and emotional goals.

I started yoga because I needed an outlet and it quickly became clear that yoga would fulfill that need. I’d started a more rigorous training program before I made it to a class, but once I made it…. I didn’t look back. Teaching it, on the other hand, slowly called to me until it became an itch I couldn’t scratch off of me. It’s become my joy, so much so that I’m taking prerequisites for physical therapy school. And chemistry two…… well, let’s just say I don’t really have the time for a full-time job, anyway.

Five years ago, I would have worried myself sick about what I’d lost rather than what I’ve gained. I probably would have crawled into bed and rotted for months, deep into despair. Not that there haven’t been days and nights where I’ve done exactly that (because feeling all my feelings is crucial to healing).

Yet, I know in my bones that this is my reality and there is a reason for it. It hurts, but it’s time to move on. I’ve lost so much in such a short span that it turned my mindset went to: “It can only go up from here.”

We grieve, and we grow through it. And that’s the story I’m telling myself and choosing to believe; not that I’ve made a mistake, but that I’ve walked onto the next stepping stone of my life path. And just like the lotus (or half lotus), we grow, even through mud.