20 February 2011

The Ache

by Stephanie F. Earls

Do you have it? Not just a sore foot or tired back, I am talking the ache. Deep, tender, vulnerable, confusing ache. The sort of ache that makes you feel like nothing matters. It might have a physical manifestation or maybe something less tangible like a heavy fog settled around your heart.  It's not always there but now and then it'll creep up and cause you to wonder why or what or who. You look around at your life and see the sum total of your parts does not seem to justify the ache, which makes it so much harder to accept. Everything should be good. Things should make sense. You should be happy. You should not have the ache.

These days despite all the beauty, gratitude and devotion in our lives, many of us still experience the ache.  It's not that we are not inspired, it's not that we are bitter. It's not that we are asleep at the wheel.  On the contrary, the ache has surfaced precisely because we decided to wake up. We became aware. We have awakened something in ourselves that says, "hey, I'm here! And, living half a life is not the way I want to live anymore." Do we mourn our losses? Sure. Do we long to feel whole? Of course. But just because we notice the ache does not mean we are stuck on our loss or less than whole already. It simply means we have begun waking up to our full expression.

As soon as you wake up from your sleepy self you notice the part of you that has been most deeply at rest. It might feel a little tired, it might ache.

Imagine it this way: after a year as a couch potato, you run a mile.  The next day, how do you feel? You probably ache. Maybe tender quads and calves, a vulnerable back or all over deep tired.  It's confusing because you did something to help yourself and you feel ache. But this ache is not debilitating, it is new awareness of those parts of you that were less active until now.  The ache might tempt you to say "running sucks" but now those parts and you have new blood, new energy, new life force flowing through them like never before. They are alive and you know it.  You are aware.

So, what do those parts need? The hard*ss will tell you to stop your whining and get out there and run again, to keep limber and active. The softy will suggest a little tlc:  a rub or warm bath. Both say patience and a little time.

So while you are walking around in these fast moving days of change and growth, when you wake up, keep up.  If you feel the ache ask yourself if it throbs because you are not working it or because you are.  And you know the answer. Treat it like the part of you that was sleeping for a while and got a little sore because you woke it up.  Follow the hard*ss advice: stop your whining and continue exercising your wake up. Follow the softy's words and give yourself a little tlc. Maybe a combination of both.  Try some patience and time. Breathe here. Remind yourself you are growing. You woke up! You've brought in new energy, new life force.

You don't have to change anything and you don't have to judge the ache. Just notice it. Stay aware and you will stay open. Just like running again the next day, awareness will keep the spirit limber in your body. With a little awareness you will find patience. With a little time you will transform. And soon you will realize the ache was just a little growing pain.

01 February 2011

Identity

by Stephanie F. Earls

Who are you? What defines you? Do you know? Does it come from the inside or the outside? Every now and then, even if you contemplate this notion from time to time there are moments that happen which get you to take a look at yourself.

A small moment like that happened for me today when I went to the registry of motor vehicles to change my name on my license. With forms filled out, new picture taken and fees paid, the clerk handed me a paper that would be sufficient to use to drive until my "new" license arrives in the mail. My "old" license disappeared into the abyss.

I turned to leave and felt like something was missing! Naked. No "identification". Even the paper that will suffice for driving clearly states that it "may not be used as official identification". I had momentary  panic and realized I was a little attached to my "identity" in my driver's license. It felt strange and uncertain to leave my "identity" behind, separate from myself as I walked away.

I took a quick inventory of myself, questioning: is that plastic card really me? Does it define me? Does the name and how it appears really identify me? Do I need "official identification" to feel who I am?

In yoga philosophy one of the yamas or restraints is the principle of aparigraha: non-possessiveness/non-attachment.  It is the practice of remaining open hearted and open handed through life, letting the ever changing variables of life come and go - flow - whether they be plastic cards with your name on them or a car, a job or a loved one. It's a tough principle because though we try to remain open we still naturally attach to the things in life that we care about. Today for me it was a plastic card linked to my name. In and of itself, my heart was not in it but still there was a tiny pang in my heart as I started to walk away without it. What about for the things that we become more invested in? A job we love, a relationship we value, our home, a dream of something we'd put our heart into. It can be a challenge.

But here in rests the chance to get to know ourselves better, to connect to what is us, from the inside. Here is the chance to connect to the very heart of who we are.

It is part of our practice in yoga, in life, in anything we love, to connect to the part of us that does not change, which can not be taken away or left behind at a registry. Coming to know the steady and gentle constant inside ourselves, which rests unaffected by the whims of what is outside, is part of the path toward peace in our lives.

The external changes, it's the nature of things.  Our being is more than a thing.  Anytime we quiet and connect to our center (even just setting the intention to find it)  we are nourished by our eternal.  We find a strength which can endure all questions of identity. We come to the heart of who we are even while the external swirls around us. We practice remaining open hearted and open handed so that life can flow through us, letting our identity emanate from the inside out.

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60 second practice
Try it: Come to your center. Practice. Use the simplest tool, your breath.   Watch your breath and the way it moves in and out of your body. Take 60 seconds, one hand on your heart and one hand on your belly. Close your eyes and feel the in breath and the out breath. I've said it before, and it's worth repeating... simply notice your breath, no need to change anything, no right or wrong. Just notice your breath. You will be 60 seconds more aware of your source, your light and your identity, which can never be left behind and burns brighter than the sun. Feel your warmth, feel your strength,  feel your openness and with open hands and open heart, know you.