|In the Green. From Maia Earth Village, Palawan, Philippines.|
There is an element of struggle, some continued soreness and pain in neck--triggered a month ago by an emotional breakup--persists, thoughts cut into the scene, but they also go just as quickly. But practice is, as it always is: practice.
Later, as I lie resting at the end of a full-filling morning sadhana, I instinctively put my hand on my heart. Now, these are the very real moments that I love about yogasana practice, when the breath, the postures, the focus, the will to move whittles away at the physical, mental and emotional body.
This is when we are most honest, when the wisdom of the ages speaks through our own headspace, penetrating through so much associative garbage.
Hand to heart, this is what I said to myself, this is today's message from the universe:
"Karen, Kaz, whatever you call yourself at this moment, it doesn't matter because in your deepest heart you know your real name: I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. You may have experienced my love through J--- for some time. His was only an expression of my love. Without him, my love continues. My heart still beats for you..."
Yes, dear sage voice, thank you! I get that, I really do deep down in my bones get that. But since we are having a conversation, I need to say I am struggling today. Contact brings stuff up. I experienced a loss. Someone I loved, a relationship I cherished disappeared, died. In her book "On Death and Dying," Elizabeth Kubler-Ross identifies five stages of grief (denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance), which I feel like I've been through quite thoroughly over the last couple of months. But today, I seem to be cycling through each of them quite strongly.
I acknowledge that this too is practice, that the challenges, all these formidable emotions, are opportunities to go deeper into the rabbit hole, where true wonder awaits, that there is an opportunity to see and feel beyond what I have already experienced.
The love, I see, is still there. It changes but is never diminished. Love, itself, does not die. But I also have to acknowledge that there is a loss, that one of love's ambassadors has gone, his time passed. That along with celebrating the quiet and powerful discovery that love is, it feels right to mourn the loss of one who served loves purpose so well--at least for the time being.
And so navigating this grief, finding the joy beyond it, and being honest about it all is part of today's practice. There is no good or bad practice, I remind myself. It is what it is. And thank goodness!