For the past few weeks, I've been in crisis mode so deeply that I wasn't even aware that I was operating on auto-pilot and that I hadn't really stopped to feel. That all changed today. I woke up and felt like a petrified tree. My thought processes and actions were completely frozen. I had nothing to teach, no asana to offer. I was done. Finito. Kaput. Complete disconnect.
This is a scary feeling to someone who teaches for a living. My heart felt like a wintery tundra.
Yet, the world won't wait while you get your shit sorted out, so...
Off I went to teach, thinking that I would just teach a flow with no theme. Heck, I'm not an Anusara teacher anymore, I could do just that kind of wacky thing! (yes, I'm completely aware of what a cop-out that is.) As I drove through the Hudson Valley, I saw a circular driveway with about 50 trees, all tapped to collect the sap to be boiled into maple syrup. I burst out into hysterical sobs. Like that. WTF was going on? What had cracked open in me?
It was one of those a-ha moments. Sometimes the tapping process releases pressure in a powerful way and out it all comes at once. Even in the face of what appears to be frozen solid, sweetness is always flowing inside, yearning to get out—sometimes right alongside grief. I thought I was frozen and dead inside. Duh, even in the frozen winters, the sap is still present. Even when the river freezes, life is still flowing beneath the ice. Even when I forget my own heart, it's still pumping sweet nectar through me. I just forgot to tap into myself enough to taste it. I wasn't frozen. I was forgetful and sad.
I love the idea of anjali mudra as a tap into our hearts. Our thumbs reach in to connect more deeply, and the fingers reach out as release and to offer the sweetest flavor of life into the world. The more I remember and tap into my own heart, the more I can soften, feel things as they come up, and good or bad, step into the flavors of life.
This is a scary feeling to someone who teaches for a living. My heart felt like a wintery tundra.
Yet, the world won't wait while you get your shit sorted out, so...
Off I went to teach, thinking that I would just teach a flow with no theme. Heck, I'm not an Anusara teacher anymore, I could do just that kind of wacky thing! (yes, I'm completely aware of what a cop-out that is.) As I drove through the Hudson Valley, I saw a circular driveway with about 50 trees, all tapped to collect the sap to be boiled into maple syrup. I burst out into hysterical sobs. Like that. WTF was going on? What had cracked open in me?It was one of those a-ha moments. Sometimes the tapping process releases pressure in a powerful way and out it all comes at once. Even in the face of what appears to be frozen solid, sweetness is always flowing inside, yearning to get out—sometimes right alongside grief. I thought I was frozen and dead inside. Duh, even in the frozen winters, the sap is still present. Even when the river freezes, life is still flowing beneath the ice. Even when I forget my own heart, it's still pumping sweet nectar through me. I just forgot to tap into myself enough to taste it. I wasn't frozen. I was forgetful and sad.
I love the idea of anjali mudra as a tap into our hearts. Our thumbs reach in to connect more deeply, and the fingers reach out as release and to offer the sweetest flavor of life into the world. The more I remember and tap into my own heart, the more I can soften, feel things as they come up, and good or bad, step into the flavors of life.
"anjali mudra as a tap into our hearts." wow. thank you. keep it flowin! <3
ReplyDeleteThanks, Lydia!
DeleteOoooooh, I love this sappy post! "Sweetness is always flowing inside, yearning to get out" -- so good... Thank you! XO
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful reminder maple syrup season is, even for an old New England to Bay Area transplant like myself. Lovely post, Lara! Beautiful! Sweet, even.
ReplyDelete