During the recent spell of distraction, I failed to notice the dog named Ego covertly slip a collar around my neck and take me off for a little trip down memory lane, up angry road, through the woods of confusion and on across the meadow sea of resentment.
Old patterns restitched themselves into familiar places and I bounced around in their quilty arms, thinking thoughts which fed the feelings which led to tears. And on and on. And all the while, Ego panted happily beside my floppy, unseeing Self.
I began yoga a week or so ago. I never thought I could be that kind of person; I’ve tried classes and apps and DVD’s over the years but it felt too strenuous; not enough movement for my restless spirit. I used to find solace on the crossramp with my legs going a million miles an hour to thumping club music. These days I have found a peace in running too which admittedly is more like Phoebe-running. Although I do not enjoy getting out of bed at the obscene hour that I do (thanks to husband for that), I do love the misty morning feel, the dark, the cool, the solitude. No music. Just me, just my feet, just breathing. On the days I don’t run, I do yoga.
During my session this morning, I came into an awareness that I had been dragged along of late. I had been preoccupied with the film I was helping with and instead of living with my heart open and being conscious of thought and of love and space, I had retreated to my old ways. Certain situations that I know will take years to sit comfortably with, rose up and roared. I did not fight them, I didn’t observe and let them be. I ignored them. And in that rejection, they bred.
Ego yelped when I opened my eyes this morning and stopped; he was still galloping with destinations dark and thorny for me but I took off the collar, wagged my finger at him and turned away.
Ego, exasperated, would say, “how many times do I have to do this? This back and forth with awareness?” and the answer, with an equal amount of displeasure, would be “who the hell knows?” but that would get me nowhere.
I understand fully that this is what the journey is about.
It’s about the opening and closing of the heart, the learning and learning, the turning away and being sucked into old mental pathways followed by the returning to the self. The loving openness of each return which holds no judgement or harsh feelings. And, of being able to sit with whatever is going on, be it joyful or painful.
Tara Brach has said that there is beauty in a heart that is ready for everything.