Tip Me Over

(and pour me out)

Years ago as I was getting ready to teach a yoga class at my studio in Santa Monica, a woman walked up to me at the front of the room. There were already people sitting on their yoga mats, and more people checking in at the front desk. She walked up with her mat-bag slung over her shoulder. “Hi,” she said a little too loudly, “you must be Ally. I’m Flavia (I don’t actually remember her name) and I’ve been hearing about your class for a long time.” She named three different teachers in town who’d apparently recommended me - which always feels good, of course - but this woman had a little edge about her, and she continued to speak at full volume so everyone in the room could hear. She told me whose classes she enjoyed and mentioned a few people whose classes she did not enjoy, some of them teachers I respected very much. I said that to her, meeting her at the same volume since she had invited everyone in the room into our conversation. I said some teachers resonate with you and some don’t, that it’s a subjective thing. “Anyway,” she said over me, finishing in a little sing-song, “I’ve heard lots of good things about you from people I trust, so we’ll see!” And with that, she turned on her heel and went to find a spot for her mat, but I found myself chuckling and shaking my head, because I knew it wasn’t going to go well. She’d walked into the room to figure out which list I was going on - liked, or not liked. She came to see if I lived up to the hype, and she’d put me on notice in front of everyone in the room. It said everything about her state of mind, and nothing at all about me.

Not the real Flavia. Photo Credit Aaron Amat

In Zen Buddhism, there’s a story about a young man who wants to find enlightenment. He travels all over the world studying with the best and most revered teachers he can find. He keeps hearing about this one teacher, though, in the most remote mountain, tucked away living in a cave. This is the teacher who truly has the answers according to everyone, so the young man goes on a quest, determined to find her. After many months and many failed attempts trekking up the wrong mountains, he finally arrives. “Hello!” He says to the Zen Master, a shriveled old woman with twinkling eyes, “I have come to learn from you!” The old woman invites him in for tea, and the young man proceeds to regale her with tales of his journey, and all the other teachers with whom he’s studied. He tells her about the lessons he’s learned along the way, the meaning he’s gleaned from them, his own philosophy about life, and the persistence it took to find this particular mountain. After a very long while, the old woman gets up. She comes back with the kettle and refills her cup, and then the young man’s cup, but even when his cup is full, she keeps pouring. Boiling water spills over the sides of the cup, onto the table, and then onto the floor. Only then does the young man stop speaking, jumping up so as not to be burned. “What are you doing?!” he asks the Zen Master, “The cup is full!” The old woman throws her head back and laughs. “That’s right,” she says, “Your cup is full. How can I teach you anything? You need to come and talk to me when your cup is empty!”

Photo Credit: Daniel R. Cook

The way that woman had come up to me before class was the most real-life experience I’d had of the full cup. Most people have stories they tell themselves or things they grapple with, but you don’t know about that for quite a while. In a way, I appreciated how she’d walked in the door with her inner workings on full display, how she’d shared it all, right off the bat. Sure enough, halfway through class, she made a spectacle of rolling up her mat, and she walked out the door without a glance in my direction. I’d made her not liked list, which I knew she’d share with the next teacher she went to judge. The remaining students looked at me, some of them with concern, but I laughed and shrugged. I’d been teaching a long time by then, and was happy not to take it personally. People are funny and often in their own way, and aside from that, not everyone is going to like me. As long as I like me, I’m good.

I was in a relationship with a guy once, years ago, and he’d also telegraphed who he was very early on, I just didn’t want to receive the memo. He had so many good qualities, so what if there were red flags? So what if there were a lot of red flags? So what if I was tripping over red flags on my way to the bathroom? So what if red flags were hitting me in the face so often I made a daily practice of telling myself it was cool, everything was fine? I kept charging by those flags, talking myself into or out of whatever feelings I was having in order to make it through another day, because I knew if I could just love him enough, he’d chaaaaaaaannnnnnnggggggggeeeeeeee. 

Any time you ignore red flags, any time you override your intuition or talk yourself out of how you’re feeling, any time you make excuses for someone else’s crappy behavior, you can bet there’s going to be trouble. And anytime your own cup is overflowing, maybe with your own attachments or stories about yourself or the way relationships work or a million other possibilities, you lose an opportunity to learn something about yourself, someone else, or the situation you’re in. Sometimes you really care about a person, so you’re willing to deal with their quirks or struggles. I’d argue that we all have those, and most intimate relationships are going to involve some amount of give-and-take, of bending a little this way or that, of shrugging off the small stuff. But there are certain issues that aren’t small and they might be deal breakers for you, and that’s okay, too. The guy with all the great qualities also turned out to have a shoplifting habit which eventually came to light in an aisle at Whole Foods one afternoon, and that was not something I could accept, nor was it something he wanted to address. I’m also not someone who’s going to stick around for a person who is lying, cheating, and generally not having my back. I used to say relationships took work and I still think they do, but I don’t think it should take too much work. 

If I could go back in time and talk to my 20, 25, 30, 35-year old self and say one thing, it would be: Get the fuck out, because almost any relationship I had in those years was exhausting and painful. It should not feel like a constant struggle, like pushing a boulder up a steep hill. It should not involve tri-weekly, tri-monthly or even tri-annually giant conversations about things that feel like they ought to be obvious. I mean things like your partner showing you respect, consideration, kindness, patience and support, and you offering those things to your partner as well. Those are really not negotiable in my book, and I hope they aren’t in yours, either - any healthy, thriving, growing relationship requires open, honest communication, the ability to be accountable and to give and receive heartfelt apologies, and underlying, abiding trust. If you don’t have those things, you’re going to have some problems. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self that there are conversations it makes sense to have, and conversations that are - in and of themselves - signs that you’re in the wrong relationship. It is supposed to be fun, after all, it’s not supposed to be relentless work and agony. This was not obvious to younger me.

This kind of thing happens in friendships, too. Sometimes you’re going along with someone, you’re having those really amazing, meaningful conversations, you’re making plans and having laughs and cries together, you start to think, I’ll always know this person. And then after a year, or maybe more, you come up against your first big conflict. That’s when the rubber meets the road. That's when you both get to see how you’re going to tackle painful topics or events, together as a team. And you might see some things that give you pause, like maybe your friend isn’t returning your calls or texts. Maybe the gate comes down and you find yourself confused, shocked, upset and with nowhere to put any of those feelings. It takes a good long while to really get to know someone. What works for me might not work for you, and vice versa. I’m someone who needs to talk things through. If we’re having an issue, I’m going to want to sit down and see your face and hear your voice and be able to tell you I’m sorry if I’ve done something to let you down, and I’m going to want that in return. 

The people in my life mean more to me than anything, and I take my relationships seriously. If we’re close and you have quirks or triggers, they don’t have to make sense to me - if I love you, I am certainly going to try to avoid upsetting you. I’m not talking about walking on eggshells, I’m saying if there are little things that drive you nuts or push your buttons, I’m going to try to work with that. And if you really love a particular flower or kind of chocolate or the works of a certain poet, I’m going to keep my eyes open, and send them your way when I can. I’m going to text memes if I think they’ll make you laugh, I’m going to send hey, just wanted to tell you how much I love you texts for no reason at all, I’m going to be there when the shit hits the fan, and I’m also going to be the person to help you pack, move, whatever. I don’t need all of that in return, I despise score-keeping and gifts given with unspoken strings, but I do need to feel like I matter to you, otherwise what are we doing? What am I doing? There have been times I’ve compromised far too much with the things I need because the thing I like least in life is goodbye. But I can’t walk on eggshells because I grew up that way, and I can’t deal with radio silence in the face of conflict. Even now, when I’m invested in a relationship, it’s hard to walk away. But here’s something I’ve learned, and I think it’s important - it sucks when people abandon or betray you - it hurts like hell and makes you question your own judgment, but the worst abandonment and betrayal out there happens when you abandon and betray yourself. Sometimes you have to take the cup and tip it over, empty it out, and watch the water flow away. If some of your own tears flow out at the same time, that’s called life.

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” Maya Angelou

If you’d like to meet me in real time to talk about full vs. empty cups, I’ll be here 5/3/24 at 11:15am PST, or you can wait for the Come As You Are podcast version. And friends, there are a few spots left for Portugal, email me about remaining room options if you want to come! It’s going to be extraordinary.