Attachment to the outcome
I grew up in the suburbs of Boston, and most of my family is on the East Coast. It can be hard living far from family. So when my mom and dad proposed spending the long Easter weekend with us this year in San Antonio, I was delighted.
I had this idea of how the weekend would unfold. Mom’s birthday was the day before Easter Sunday this year, and the kids were excited to celebrate. Springtime in San Antonio is my favorite season - the temperature is so pleasant, the sun shines abundantly, and everything in nature is bursting forth with new life. It is such a pleasure for the senses to sit outside on the back patio, coffee in hand, and embrace the energy of spring mornings.
So as their visit approached, I envisioned a weekend of imminent sunshine, poolside birthday celebrations, and delightful Easter traditions: egg hunts, brunch, an evening cookout.
Of course for those of us in SA this weekend, we know that the weather left much to be desired. Grateful as I am for the needed rain, none of the outdoor festivities I planned came to fruition. Heading into the weekend I acknowledged the need to pivot, and we ended up having a great time bowling at Pinstack for mom’s birthday instead (the kids especially). I quietly congratulated myself for being adaptable and going with the flow. After all, no one can control the weather.
That night I went to bed in anticipation of the next morning - the joyful discovery of Easter baskets, an egg hunt with neighbors, and of course, a celebration of Resurrection over brunch with friends and family. What followed was something I never predicted.
I awoke in exhausted confusion at 5AM when our 2 year old Olivia, who typically sleeps through the night, was up crying. She kept saying her neck hurt, pointing to the back of her head. Deliriously tired, I brought her into bed with me where she slept until 7:30.
When she woke, she would not move her head from the pillow, nor would she let me pick her up without crying out in pain. My thoughts raced back over the previous day, landing on the realization that she had recently learned to climb out of her crib. I had meant to convert it to a toddler bed before my parents arrived, but in the commotion of the weekend, she was still in it.
The prior afternoon before bowling I had put Olivia down for her nap, and she promptly climbed out of her crib and came downstairs. This repeated two or three times, until finally I asked my husband to intercept her. Hearing his footsteps, Olivia scrambled to get back into her crib, and in her haste she did a full somersault into her bed while I watched from the baby monitor. At the time, it wasn’t alarming - she seemed fine and had a completely normal rest of the day. But now here she was on Easter morning, refusing to move her neck, clearly in pain.
So while the big kids dug through their Easter baskets and readied themselves for brunch, mom and I gently buckled Olivia into her carseat and drove to the ER. Five hours, some Motrin, and a baby neck brace later - Olivia’s range of movement had improved enough that the doctor no longer feared a ligament tear. We were sent home with a diagnosis of “acute torticollis” (literally a wry neck), and orders to keep her head elevated while sleeping.
Needless to say, we missed brunch.
My dad spent that rainy Easter Sunday watching the Valero Open from my couch, while Michael (my husband) took apart the crib and converted it to a toddler bed. The big kids went with our neighbors, and mom and I spent the day at the ER ensuring the Olivia’s wellbeing. By the time we got home I was tired, cranky, and frankly feeling a little ridiculous. My inner voice kept saying: “after all of that, all she needed was some Motrin?”
My sweet neighbor and friend reassured me, “there is no price I wouldn’t pay for peace of mind” - and I agreed. But in the moment, I felt crushed. Mom and dad visit maybe once a year. I was so excited to make core memories: to watch the kids run through the yard in search for eggs, to gather with friends who have become family. I was so attached to how the weekend should have looked - I was so attached to the outcome - that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.
Olivia was okay. In fact she made a full recovery by the next morning. Michael stepped in to handle meals - defrosting a lasagna and inviting our neighbors over in gratitude for their help. My dad had brought new card games with him, and we sat around the kitchen table that night playing, talking, and laughing. Nothing about the weekend happened the way I planned it, but it was beautiful nonetheless. And in my desperate attachment to the outcome, I nearly missed it.
How often do we do this to ourselves? How often do we steal from our present, because we are lamenting a future that didn’t go our way?
In yogic philosophy, the concept of non-stealing is called “asteya.” It speaks to the reality that so many of us live and operate from a place of scarcity - a place of “I will have enough when X. I will be enough when Y.” These thought patterns are pervasive in our performance-based culture. We are always chasing the next milestone, the next rung on the ladder, the next material possession. We imagine happiness as the destination, something only to be experienced once we’ve fully arrived at some distant spot on the roadmap of life. And in doing so, we steal from ourselves the joy of being here now. When we attach ourselves, our happiness, our self worth, our expectations, to the outcome - we unnecessarily increase suffering. We lose sight of the magic that comes from living the process. I was so focused on curating this beautiful, magical Easter weekend with my parents - and when reality did not meet my expectations - all I felt was loss.
I was moody and irritable at a situation I had no control over. And it wasn’t until I detached from the outcome, took a step back, and recognized all that I had to be grateful for, that my perception shifted. A healthy child, a supportive partner, friends who showed up, and a mom who came with me to the hospital without a second thought. It was then that I realized: I already have everything I need.
In even more beautiful poetry, when I attended my YTT this weekend and shared this story with my fellow yoga teachers in training, one of my friends had this to offer: “Katie, you shared this story as something that didn’t go to plan - but let me ask you, when was the last time your mom got to mother you?”
In that single moment, with that simple observation, my friend restored every loss I had felt at the time, when I was so attached to the outcome not going my way, and replaced it with this incredible bubble of gratitude. She was absolutely, unequivocally correct. My mom lives far away from me. I am a grown woman with three kids of my own. I do the mothering in my life, for everyone, all the time. And this Easter, while my kid was in the ER with a neck sprain, my mom got to mother me again. Realizing this was profound bliss. What I had robbed from myself, my friend gently and compassionately returned to me. (Thank you Veronica).
This is the practice of asteya. The practice of non-stealing. It is the way out of our attachment to the outcome, and the way toward living with gratitude for each present moment.
How do we find asteya? How do we cultivate this sense of presence in our own lives?
For me, the answer lies in breath. When I bring awareness to my breathing, to each intentional inhale, and each slow and complete exhale, I cannot be anywhere else but here. Breath anchors us. It creates space, and it shifts us from reaction to response, from judgment to curiosity.
Do I do this perfectly? Of course not. But the awareness itself is everything. It gives permission to pause, to ask not “how will the outcome make me feel?”, but rather:“how do I want to feel in this moment?”
APRIL WORKSHOP: INHALE & IGNITE
April’s Wildflower workshop invites us to embody the practice of asteya. Of not stealing the present from ourselves for the sake of some unknowable future. Through our breath, we explore what it means to become so present in our bodies that we can release our mind’s grip on the outcome, and focus instead on the abundance that already exists within.
Join us for Inhale & Ignite, on April 16th from 6-9 pm. We are grateful to Courtney Morris of Courtney Morris Counseling, who will perform a guided breath circle intended to center and ground us into the present moment. Together she and Jenny Little from Magic Manos, who is also graciously hosting the workshop at her studio, will combine breath therapy, reiki, and sound healing to activate the life-force within each of us, unlocking a deeper connection to the self.
Following the breath circle we invite you to stay for light bites and sips around a bonfire under the stars. An intention ignition ritual will be available for all who feel called to participate.
Come with curiosity and non-judgment, stay for meaningful connection, and leave feeling more aware and embodied in your own strength than ever before.
This workshop is designed in time with nature. Astrologically the sun is in Aries, the start of the zodiac new year. This mirrors the season we are in on Earth, where evidence of spring is abundant and everything is bursting forth with expansive life force. Aries is a fire sign, and we are in the Year of the Fire Horse, which makes this moment feel especially potent.
Perhaps you too have been dreaming, planning, and building toward an outcome you desire. Detaching from the outcome is not to say that desiring the outcome is wrong. It is to say that there is more than one way to skin a cat - and that taking the intentional pause, the INHALE before you IGNITE - can make the difference between setting yourself up to experience unnecessary suffering, and moving through the work with joy and gratitude in your heart.
So this month, we will:
INHALE: To return to the present, to release the grip on how things should unfold.
and
IGNITE: To take aligned action from a place of clarity and intention. To embody the feeling of the desired outcome, before it happens. Feel it first, and it becomes inevitable.
This workshop, like all Wildflower workshops, is BYOMW (mat+water), all other materials + light bites and refreshments will be provided.
BEYOND THE MAT: Detaching from the outcome to increase joy
This section is where I share practical ways to incorporate the reflections within each newsletter into your own journey.
Journal Prompts: Instead of asking “what outcome am I chasing?” I invite you to reflect on:
How do I think this outcome will make me feel?
What can I do today, to cultivate that same feeling?
Reading: The Yamas and Niyamas by Deborah Adele. We are reading this in my YTT 200 HR and it has already changed the way I move about my daily life.
PARTING THOUGHTS
Attachment to the outcome creates unnecessary suffering. When we practice releasing our grip on controlling the outcome, and instead find ways to bring ourselves into the present moment, we open ourselves to create with more clarity, ease, and gratitude.
Breath. Movement. Makership. Mindful connection. All of the modalities we practice at Wildflower invite us to reset and refocus on the present, on the now moment, so that we operate from a place of abundance for what is, rather than lack of what is not (yet).
Wildflower exists to support this way of living — in step with the seasons, in tune with ourselves, and in community with one another.
With love and gratitude,
Katie