You'd have thought that the first time I did something that I previously thought I'd hate and then discovered that I loved it, that I'd have learned the lesson about pre-judging things. And yet, I have recently had to relearn that lesson again.

'Untitled' Lynda Benglis'

Part of the itinerary for the 60th birthday celebration of a dear friend was a visit to the Turner Gallery to see an exhibition titled 'Beyond Form', focusing on abstract art.

I’ll spare you the full details of my thoughts, but let’s just say I had a few reservations.

I lack the vocabulary and the sophistication to articulate precisely what I anticipated encountering. However, if you can untangle the competing notions swirling around concepts of ugliness and lack of discernible meaning—incapable of sparking any connection whatsoever —that's essentially what I braced myself for. The lengths we go to for love.

I envisioned myself wandering through the gallery, forcing myself to nod politely at incomprehensible artworks, secretly counting down the minutes until I could escape back to the comfort of something less mysterious and more tangible.

But life has a funny way of challenging our assumptions, doesn't it?

The first surprise came before I even stepped foot into the gallery. The building itself was a marvel—a symphony of glass, framing the ever-changing canvas of the sea beyond. It was a breath taking sight, a reminder that beauty often lies where we least expect it.

What unfolded was a journey of discovery, one that forced me to confront my own biases and preconceptions. I can't claim to have loved everything I saw, nor could I make sense of much of it, there were plenty of pieces that provoked me to pause and question. Some even stirred a genuine appreciation within me.

Reflecting on my experience at the Turner Gallery, I can't help but recall other moments in my life where my initial biases and ignorance prevented me from exploring new horizons. For years. I couldn’t be persuaded to get me on a bike, yet once I did, I fell in love with cycling and the sense of freedom it offered. Similarly, I stubbornly resisted yoga, convinced it wasn't for people like me. To think that I could have found it so much earlier had I been less ignorant, arrogant and wilfully closed minded.

These experiences serve as poignant reminders that our preconceived notions can limit our potential for growth and discovery. Like hesitating to try exotic cuisines, only to find new flavours that broaden the palate, or resisting social gatherings, only to forge meaningful connections and friendships, it's often when we push past our initial reluctance that we uncover life's most unexpected treasures.

As I share this reflection with my yoga community, I invite you to consider your own moments of closed-mindedness and the lessons they may hold. What experiences have you resisted, only to discover their hidden treasures? What opportunities for growth and discovery await when we approach life with curiosity and openness?

In the end, I am grateful for the lessons learned amidst the art and the ocean—a reminder that every experience, no matter how seemingly mundane, has the potential to awaken us to the beauty of our own existence.