Mid-stair drill, mid-effort, Kay said it flat: “You’re so quick to get distracted.” Not mean. Not mystical. Just accurate.
And she wasn’t talking about yoga. She was naming a pattern. The one where I reach for the bind instead of staying in the dance. The one where the “brass ring” becomes the whole point, and the whole conversation in the body gets ignored.
The yoga room doesn’t create that habit. It just makes it impossible to hide. You can fake a lot in life. You can’t really fake being present when you’re balancing, sweating, counting, and suddenly chasing the shiny thing.
Her fix wasn’t “stop getting distracted.” It was more annoying than that. Notice the little moment of friction when it arises. Feel it. Then use it like an anchor. Come back down. Coordinate, coordinate. Hamstring, hamstring.
This is why it matters off the mat. Teaching. Writing. Relationships. You drift. You lunge for the outcome. You miss what’s actually happening. The mat is just the lab where the data is loud.
So here’s the image I’m keeping: knee above hip. Now wait. The wait is the whole practice. Attention is scarce right now. The old methods still work. Not through apps. Through friction.