There was a moment a week ago, I seriously considered hopping into the Hudson River. I was over it. Finished. Done. Willing to give up.
It was a rough month. A month where everything I had faith in and held dear was swept away, and my frustrated, angry sack o’ cells was left spent, annihilated, kissing pavement.
My reluctant mantra on what was, ironically, a glorious 75-degree afternoon: FINE. Ok, I surrender. I have no control. Got it. Ya don’t have to show me again. I’m yours.
That wasn’t anywhere near the first time I had that convo with the Universe, but apparently I was due for another round.
I’ve said it before, and looks like I’ll say it over and over again: Surrender is not a one-time deal, it’s an ongoing practice. I, and I assume all of us, would prefer to not be pushed to surrender:: I always enjoy and cheerlead the angling of ‘letting go’ or ‘letting life make love to you.’ A flowy or Zen reframe for riding this wave. But sometimes, it seems, waking up includes pavement and face scuffing.
Two days later, in hometown Chicago with a teacher I’ve trusted and respected for years, I sheepishly showed up to my ignored yoga practice. As I watched myself struggle through the familiar postures, stretching and eeking into the uncomfortable clamp of my toxicity, I was reminded:
Pain is just a reminder that You are bigger than your experience.
In Chicago, this applied to both yoga + ornery family members.
This last week I was told that I am the embodiment of Love. That it resonates in every cell of my being and I am go-to-go with my spiritual work. On the same day I was called a selfish bitch with serious problems; that someone is worried about how blind I am to my issues in life.
Which is true? Both. Neither. Could I hold the paradox that both of these were truths about me? Could I lean into both designations?
Awakening. Inner chaos. 80-degree days in March.
The peeps I practice with have a private facebook group in New York. Although there is plenty of bliss and excitement here, in the last weeks there have been people begging for prayers, speaking of suffering, all grit coming up. This is a safe space, away from the self-promotion and across-the-board agreed upon ‘rah rah’ positivity of the general fb—this private portal is a place to be raw, and it’s been dirty.
Aside from that, I have the privilege to be privy to the private lives of some pretty extraordinary people. Chaos is happening across the board. I offer that, because there is somehow comfort in knowing discombobulation is present for all of us.
For me, there have been moments where it has never been more uncomfortable, ugly or seemingly hurtful. Life has never been so real.
The bizzare thing is, I find that my experience of late has more mirrored to me where other people are. There’s some kind of crystalline inescapable truth that resonates– if they are vibing high, there is joy, and if they are not—there is no hiding it. Hiding is no longer an option. The sh** is rising to the surface to be seen and dealt with, whether we choose it or not.
“Most of the shadows of this life are caused by our standing in our own sunshine.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson
This is not meant as a philosophy to shift the responsibility from myself, or to postulate that I/we are not somehow connected to the pain or suffering that comes to us, because, of course, always, on some level we are… But there’s been a lotta dark. I find I have to burrow deeper into my own Light.
So here’s the hope bit. When you allow it to be there, it really does shift. When I find myself sitting in a situation that might seem ‘unfair’ or abusive or something to run from, the reactions come up, I allow them to be there all ugly, uncomfortable and SO not resonating with the fabulousness that is Big or little “me,” and then, they burn away.
The yogis call it tapas. No, not spicy, steamy, small plates of Spanish chorizo. Tapas has lots of different interpretations, but on a basic level means heat. It can be burning away of our karmic garbage.
When we get deep into these spiritual practices and the mind still has a hold, we can have a tendency to beat ourselves up:
Oh this is happening on some level and I am connected to this person so this is really my experience to learn from…. Blahbitty blah. Spiritual so and so.
Stop it. Stop analyzing it. Stop reacting to it. Experience what is there and chalk it up to tapas.
It sucks to sit there, when a client, your mother, your boyfriend is furious with you. To see how you want to react when you think you are “right.”
Integrity means holding our seat, watching the ugly, admitting when we’re wrong. It means being real. Until we’re enlightened, it means making choices. Because all of this stuff, all of this woo to the woo is not to fly off somewhere else abandoning other people’s idea or opinions, or to sequester yourself in some God-bubble of betterment, but to traverse this earth with depth and honesty.
You don’t reach for bliss. It comes to get you. So drink your green juice, manifest your heart away, sweat it out, and reach for love. But don’t forget to sit in your tapas, because it’s not going away. You cannot bypass it enroute to bliss. The faster you accept it, the faster bliss comes.
Tapas away. And go ahead and get the sangria chaser. I, for one, have always been a fan of both.
