Flipping the Bird (with Lovingkindness?)

This morning, my son and I were out running a quick errand. Nothing fancy, just highway traffic, coffee in hand, and Sharon Salzberg’s Lovingkindness audiobook playing through the speakers. We’re cruising along minding our own business when this car pulls up behind me, and I mean right behind me as in practically in riding my a**, and stayed there. The driver had had all kinds of time to speed on past me in the outside passing lane, but for whatever reason, they didn’t.

(Side note: Just over a year ago I was rear ended after a tailgater failed to slowdown when I slowed down, and my car was totalled. My son was in the vehicle with me that day…)

I did my best to stay grounded, keeping my hands on the steering wheel and attention on the road ahead while at the same time remained conscious of the close distance of the vehicle behind me. I even took a few steading breaths and told myself that maybe they’re just in a rush, maybe they’ve got somewhere to be, or someone to get to, etc…

Anyhow, as our exit approached, I flipped on my indicator to signal my intentions. Just as I start to merge onto the off ramp, this guy pulls out around me, into the very lane I’m already moving into, and speeds up to cut ahead.

And that’s when it happened.

As he zoomed past, and I did what any peace-loving, heart-centered yogi would do…

I flipped him the bird.

Right there, with my arm, outstretched in front of my son’s face.

While listening to Sharon Salzberg and her Lovingkindness message…

Honestly, you can’t make this stuff up.

It was one of those moments where you catch yourself, mid-reaction, and go, “Welp… that just happened.”

And this is the stuff I come back to again and again.

Not just my meditation cushion and yoga mat and Buddha Bowls, but the real practices. In the moments where I’m tired. Reactive. Pushed to my edge and last nerve. The moments when my humanness leads the way before my breath does.

Because as much as I teach about self-awareness, nervous system regulation, and meeting yourself with kindness… I still get caught. I still lose my cool. I still flip the occasional bird.

But here’s the gift: the practice doesn’t disappear just because we messed up.

Yoga and Ayurveda don’t demand perfection. They ask for presence. They offer tools for returning.

And I did return, with a deep exhale, a quiet laugh, and a sheepish glance toward my son, who (thankfully) knows I’m a work in progress.

So if you’ve ever felt like you’re “not doing it right” because you snapped, cursed, or acted in a way that doesn’t feel very yogic… you’re not alone. This path isn’t about always getting it right. It’s about noticing when you don’t, and loving yourself anyway.

And maybe next time I’ll pause before the finger comes up. Or maybe not. Either way, I’ll breathe. I’ll come back to metta. And I’ll keep practicing — middle finger and all.

With love (and a little sass),
Michelle