Insight #3: Sometimes the recipe for success is to cut yourself some slack - part 1

My karma yoga duty at the yoga ashram was to serve lunch and clean the dining hall afterwards. Commonly, there were three of us trying to get everything ready for the service. Getting ready meant leaving the yoga asana class about 15 minutes early, and then placing mats, plates and cups for about 300 people. After that, we needed to serve about 6 different dishes going around the hall in an awkward position (since the plates were on the floor). When most of the people had eaten, we could grab lunch ourselves. After lunch, we needed to take the remaining food back to the kitchen and swipe and mop the floor. Although there were more people helping during the service, most of them somehow disappeared before it was time to mop the floor.

For a few days, I found my karma yoga duty almost fun. It was hard work and it really made the three of us bond. It was also a well-defined task and the time-pressure made us all focus only on the task at hand. It was almost meditative. It also reminded me of my job at Hesburger (a Finnish hamburger place). I guess this kind of work really is my karma.

After about 4 days, the fun-ness of my karma yoga started to decline when I realized that my elbow, neck and back were so sore that I couldn't do some of the yoga asanas anymore. I started hating it. The time-pressure that once felt good made me feel anxious. People asking me for tea when I was doing my round with rice drove me nuts. I detested people who only helped with serving but disappeared before it was time to clean up.

I knew it was time to do something about it when I felt like crying after a yoga class was somewhat ruined due to muscle spasms. I knew that I could have asked for another duty for my karma yoga. At the same time, I understood that our duty was one of the more demanding duties and it would be hard for anyone.

Instead of asking to change the duty, I decided to change the way I approached it. I decided to cut myself some slack. To relax. To accept that the goal wasn't to make the food serving the most efficient process in the world, but to teach us all patience and tolerance. If the serving wasn't ready on time, nobody would die. If my back would hurt carrying heavy buckets of sambar, I could let someone else do that and serve dosas instead. We also decided that those who helped setup the serving, didn't need to stay for mopping. Aaaah.

I think it's sometimes good to reach your limits and push yourself even a bit further. But the best moment of all is when you realize that you don't always need to do that.

Insight #2: There's no need to get irritated by the lady who always sneezes 7 times

The lady who always sneezed 7 times. Unbelievably uninhibited burping. Coughing. Farting. Snoring. Sighing.

At first, during the first 30 hours of meditation or so, all these things caused a strong physical reaction which was promptly followed by annoyance. The annoyance, in turn, was followed by thoughts alone the lines of "Damn it! Who does that in a situation like this - or anywhere, for that matter?", "That is so inconsiderate! Can't she just go out to sneeze?" or "Omg, here he goes again! No self-discipline! We're all tired, but he's the only one who snores like a freaking truck!" ...and these thoughts were not quite what I wanted to have my mind engaged in during the meditation session.

However, following the Vipassana principle of objectively observing the sensations without attaching emotions to them started to work after a while. I noticed that the physical sensation wasn't automatically linked to getting annoyed any more. I observed the sensation and let it pass away. And since I wasn't reacting to the physical sensation, I never experienced the negative emotions. It was so simple. Yet unbelievable. I learned to be less irritable in less than 10 days. I guess it wasn't about them at all. It was all about me.

Insight #1: I'm the most boring human being in the world.

During the Vipassana course, I would tell myself the same stories again and again for nine days straight. And those were stories that I had already been telling myself for months before traveling to India. There weren't even that many of them - actually, all were basically variations of the same story. No matter how hard I tried to think of something original, my mind would refuse. And when I got really tired of repeating the same story, I would think of how to tell this story about me being the world's most boring person to you, my dear audience. Dearest friends. I'm afraid that the entertainment value I can provide to you is minuscule. But I really need you to provide input to my uncreative mind. Please?