Here I am in a super tender moment. And a choice. Should I write about it? And what is it about? Will the act of writing, or the intention of sharing bring harmony to my temporary state? The ideas: On gratitude. On surrender. On transparency. On the meditation of what is. The tangibles: A sick child. A garden to tend. A muscle to stretch. Chickens to feed. And an ache of my heart that I must stay present for. How often I catch myself wanting to run from the emotions that I am feeling, from the pain of my own hurts and sometimes from the fear of knowing that I might have hurt another. Or I sometimes worry that perhaps my interaction with another triggered a storyline that was already pre-disposed to them and their learning. This is a challenge just the same.
I have been learning about my own fears, and story lines, like the one that says I could die if I lost another’s love. Note to self: I have not died yet. In these last twelve months I have perceived the ending of my marriage, a relationship with a yoga home, a vision of myself as a licensed psychotherapist, and the shifting of some friendships as treasures lost. And with each loss, I have questioned my mortality. Can I live with the ever changing states of relationships with people, and circumstances? Can I see more clearly into the stories I have concocted that offer a false sense of permanence? Will I survive the grasping of my ego to fix all of the pieces– which is so incredibly impossible, as the pieces have everything to do with each one of our stories, and not so much if I get it all right. Can I continually come back to my true nature? Can I rest in my compassion and really let go and give it up to God? I am not relinquishing my responsibilities to take ownership of my actions, thoughts, intentions but sometimes, we can do our absolute best and it is not enough. Sometimes someone else’s story may not align with yours. Well–shit.
In the leaving of many things familiar– I have found my coping mechanisms of controlling the letting go on the rise. Like, what can I give away? Where should I donate to today? Which friend might want these clothes? Which baby would love these toys? What weeds could I pull? What can I cross off of my to-do list? I devour food so it is gone, or toss because I think it might make me feel better. Oh the funny ways of my controlling mind.
As a yogi, I inquire to myself, “What has all of this practice been for?” Perhaps it is for the nows of our lives. Perhaps that back-bending practice was actually in preparation to remember to keep my energetic heart open when things hurt? And those years of arm balancing efforts have been to keep me strong enough to allow for humility without disintegration? The hip opening so that I have the freedom to flow with the watery emotions that accompany the teachings of life and love and relationships. I am so thankful to the practices that ask me to be with intention, to stay awake, and to keep planting seeds of knowing goodness, my own and yours. I am so grateful for a practice that keeps saying, “show up”. Show up in your messy, in your radiance, in your most fragile place, and your powerful goddess warrior place. And the sitting, oh the sitting, thank you for asking me to just stay put.
While I might still run from some happenings, and attempt to control others, I am more able to stay with what is, for me and for others and to learn that I will not die. Not yet anyway. I might just let some layers go, especially the ones that carry shame, blame and self-denigration. My commitments have me more in tune with compassion and major forgiveness. Of myself. Forgiveness for all of the years I have abandoned myself and chosen to believe in the story that I was not good enough. Forgiveness for every time I have thought I was, always at fault because I could not control the goodness or happiness for those around me. It is amazing how we human beings will try to keep ourselves safe but yet end up punishing ourselves as a means to understand the world around us. At least if we are to blame for the ever-changing, uncontrollable realities, than it might feel safer.
In all of these changes of my life, I have had the opportunity to drop in to my yin space of total receiving and feminine essence. It has been most revealing as to how “yang” I have been for much of my adult life. And the space of allowance is so beautiful and so incredibly tender. As the walls dissolve I must courageously trust that what I feel will not suffocate me or betray me. This is a practice. With the spring-time, my practice was a commitment to expand my capacity for joy. And then my truest self asked me if I was serious? If you want this, you must open more. Open to yourself and your own teachings and stories and salvation. And then open to the sisters and brothers and lover in your life that want so very much to support you and to support themselves into this way of being. Beyond the mat that I have worshipped at for over twelve years, it is the time with myself and my body and my breath and the Spirit that I keep. It is here that I can recognize that no treasures have been lost– simply changed, evolved.
What about all of us? Can we bow down to these amazing opportunities that ask us to radically show up for ourselves, our lives, our teachings, and the teachers all around us? Can we trust that we are in the perfect place, in a beautiful dance with the cosmos just coming hOMe along the path of each of our individual lives and living? Can we believe that it is possible to learn to let go, to hold on, and to love in our own way? For the benefit of ourselves, and for others– can we contemplate our own stories, and where we might have the opportunity to practice forgiveness, for our own tender being. And how we could be more transparent with our experiences? To note what we are grateful for, and honor what our unique meditation looks like?
With gratitude, with surrender, and transparency I made the choice to write about a passing moment. And while the tangibles change, and the tenderness gives way to abundant joy, and the fears shift, and some of the hurts mend, I am continually learning lessons. I have come to understand the path of yoga to be one of deeper intimacy with ourselves. What is it that you are willing to befriend and weave into your story?