The Body is Like a Wayward Child : When to Listen and When to Put Your Foot Down.

When you are driven and you find pride in being reliable, it takes skill to discern between laziness and exhaustion.

I remember this one time when I was feeling sick. It was a weird flu. As long as I was moving and working, I didn’t feel a thing, but the moment I sat down, I’d get swept up in overwhelming waves of nausea and need to lie down.

The problem was that I had to work as an assistant teacher at my kung fu school that evening. I knew I could push through if I had to — work sick, I mean — but I also knew from experience that if I took the night off, I’d be healthy within two or three days. If I pushed, it would probably take me a week, if not more. To complicate matters further, there was the thought that maybe I was just being lazy.

It was totally possible. Teaching kung fu is challenging, and I have often beaten myself up when I’ve made mistakes. And I think we all know, no matter how disciplined we might be, that deep down, there is the potential for laziness.

And so, with this illness that disappeared as I worked but reappeared as I stopped, I couldn’t help but wonder if I really needed to heal or if my body was just trying to give me an excuse to avoid the challenge and possible discomfort of beating myself up.

I couldn’t decide: was I ill or lazy?

I kept putting off calling in sick — thinking that I should push through. On top of this was the worry that my teacher would think I was being lazy. And the moment those thoughts rose, I’d push away the nausea, get up, and start putting my things together. But once I sat down, once again, I’d get slammed by crippling nausea that couldn’t be ignored. Finally, I gave in to the need for rest and called in sick.

How interesting that such a seemingly simple thing, like knowing you’re sick, could cause me so much confusion. Once I returned to teaching, I experienced firsthand how much skill it really takes to notice the difference between laziness and exhaustion.

Two days later, the nausea was completely gone. I was feeling 100%. So, without hesitation, I returned to assisting the kung fu classes.

While running the kids’ class, as soon as we went into plank, one of the kids showed me a cut on his knuckle and told me that he couldn’t do plank on his fists. I took a look and agreed, “Fine, go on your palms,” I said.

Immediately, every other kid in the room had a problem with their hands. I couldn’t help but laugh as I rejected all their claims. “Let’s go. All of you back on your knuckles!”

They had seen an out and tried to take it. Of course they did! They wanted to escape the discomfort; it hurts to do a plank on your knuckles. And children only know that they want to get away from discomfort as quickly as possible.

Now, like I said before, I hadn’t felt the least bit sick all day, not one inkling of nausea. And throughout the rest of the kids’ class, I felt fine. But then, when the adults’ class started we all went into horse stance — the arduous posture that marks the beginning of every kung fu class.

Two minutes in, and boom — nausea. But now, there was no question in my mind — this was a lie. I was fine. This was the same mechanism that was at work when all the kids saw an out and tried to take it.

This was my body trying to escape the discomfort of effort.

By taking those two days off, I had sent the message that nausea was an out, and so, to get away from the pain, nausea arose.

I couldn’t help but think about something a Tai Chi teacher had once told me: “The body is like a wayward child. You’ve got to guide it in the right direction.”

That is quite clearly true. But the thing is, this doesn’t mean never listening to the body. Some pain needs to be acted upon, some pain is just growth, and some pain is an unconscious effort to stay comfortable.

It takes skill to differentiate between the productive and unproductive pains of life, but each time we’re able to do so, we grow in our understanding.

Knowing the nausea for what it was allowed me to breathe through it, and it went away. My skills grew, and I’m now better equipped to differentiate between the need for a real break and the laziness of avoiding effort. And what’s really important here is to acknowledge that it wasn’t one or the other. It was seeing both situations, seemingly the same, for what they really were.

This is self-awareness. This is the mind-body connection that I strive to cultivate and share in my coaching and yoga classes.

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