Be A Banana Tree

It’s hard to believe my time in Palolem is coming to an end. Today, my fellow trainees and I taught our practical exams, during which we each led a free 90 minute class at the beach shala to random beach-goers. Tomorrow will be our written exam, closing ceremony, and starting the process of goodbyes to our teachers, the ashram, and each other. It somehow feels like I’ve just arrived, while simultaneously feeling like I’ve been here forever. I’ve become so used to the routine, the space, the long days, even the bugs and heat, that it’s hard to imagine returning to life away from Kashish. It’s been an incredible journey and I’m so glad I’ve had the opportunity to experience my 300-hour YTT in this setting.

At our first class of Day 1, as the sun began to rise, our teacher gave us some sound advice that has been on my mind ever since. After a beautiful kundalini practice, with om still vibrating through our bodies, he sat on his mat at the front of the shala. “Be a banana tree,” he said.

“A banana tree will never be a coconut tree. If a banana tree is surrounded by coconut trees, he may think it’s better to be a coconut tree. He may try and try and try, but no matter what, he will never grow a coconut. But a banana tree is not a coconut tree. A coconut tree is not a banana tree. If he spends his life trying to become a coconut tree, he will create suffering in himself. But if he is to accept himself, he will bear beautiful fruit. So, be a banana tree, or a papaya tree, or a coconut tree, but do not try to become that which is around you.”

I’ve been a banana tree all my life. I’ve often referred to myself as a black sheep, a square peg, any way you can put a cuter spin on “outsider.” I never felt like I fit into the traditional mould that was my upbringing. As described by my 6th grade teacher, I “marched to the beat of my own drum.” I always felt that I was different, and in that otherness came a feeling of seclusion and brokenness. Why didn’t I get along with big groups of girls? Why didn’t I want to do the same things and wear the same clothes and like the same boys? Why don’t I have a math and business oriented mind like my dad, or invest in creative manicures like my mom, or enjoy sports like my brothers? As I entered adolescence and my peers began to fall into their niches, it felt like there were none that suited me. Everywhere I turned, I felt the need to squeeze myself into a description that didn’t feel right to me.

I spent my whole life trying to grow coconuts in one way or another. There were fleeting times where I felt secure in myself, proud to be who I was and know what I knew and do what I did. Unfortunately, the overwhelming majority of the time, I found myself trapped in the same mindset, the same neural patterns I’d been training since I was a kid: Why can’t I be more _________?

Yoga teaches us to lose our ego and accept ourselves right where we are. When we move beyond the fancy asanas and physical practice, we begin to realize that it’s not about looking the same, stretching as far, or holding as long as the person on the mat beside you. It’s about listening to your body, listening to yourself, and slowly realizing what it is that you need to best fit your own practice. This is the hardest part of a yoga practice, but easily the most important. Just like we train our muscles to do a certain pose, we must train our minds to accept the present, whatever that looks like, and move forward in a way that is true to ourselves. It’s easier said than done, but practice makes progress.

The goal is to achieve this regardless of your situation, your surroundings, the support that you may or may not have, and while I’m constantly working on it, it’s still a challenge at times. One perk to being human is that we don’t have roots; we can pick ourselves up and put ourselves wherever we want. I’ve chosen to surround myself with fellow banana trees, and it’s been beautiful to see the fruit we can create together.