slipper karma

Have you seen these brown slippers?

Are these your black flip flops?
Any chance you're wearing brown ones today?

Today, I walked out of the shala after a lengthy savasana following the second led class of today. My slippers, your basic brown Havianas, are nowhere in sight. Nearby there was a lonely pair of black flip flops, also Havianas but more worn in, looser round the thongs--all I could think of after my post-led haziness was, "Seriously?! Not again!"

Last year, my own slippers went missing and in its place were a pair quite nearly similar except for the thickness in the thong. Also after a led class. And despite sending out the word, blogging about it, leaving a note on the replacement pair at conference, my original pair did not make its way back to me--and I ended up wearing the ones left behind for another 4 months.

When I shared my latest slipper slip up saga at the coco stand, two friends separately pointed out that I must have some serious slipper karma. Was I a slipper thief in a past life? What injustice had I committed against rubber flip flops that I should slip up twice now.

Perhaps I just didn't learn my lesson: don't bring a nondescript pair of flip flops to the shala. Or perhaps I should have followed my instincts and written my name on the pair -- which I resisted just on the grounds of the pure dorkiness of the act. I should be more assertive and simply stand by my own compulsive quirks.

Or maybe its another one of those not so heavily veiled messages from the universe. Let go, do not be attached. Maybe, its yet another metaphor for life at the shala. I stepped in today sure footed, stepped out in another person's footwear altogether.

So here's to change! To adapting! Still, I would be eternally grateful if my original pair , which fits so much better, does reappear. Fingers crossed!