This will be one of a few posts I write today. I’m feeling extra creative-juicy! Perhaps it’s because I haven’t left the house for four days now. Interesting enough, I do not feel one bit guilty about that. It’s been amazing in the most surprising way. Vacation’s over and it’s back to teaching on the 8th though so I’m trying to squeeze out all this creative juice before the real world comes pouring back in through my aura. I hope to use this time as a chance to fortify my outer shell/wall/aura/protection blanket before it’s put to the test again by forces I don’t choose. As a highly sensitive person (HSP <- that link was life changing before I knew what this meant!) I have slowly realized that my barriers are more porous than normal people’s and I have to be consciously aware of what comes in and stays out. I can shift the holes in my protection but I can’t close them. It’s so much easier just to block the stuff out and I lived much of my young adult life that way but that’s “turning my back” on the universe and that’s when the abundance gets blocked out, too.
Anyway, enough of this, let’s get to the storypoem (hey this is a new style of writing for me, do you guys like the storypoem format?)! Thanks for letting me juice that one out back there, that porous barrier visualization hasn’t ever come to me before! Usually, when I write from my true voice I put the words down without thinking and then after they come out of my fingers I think, Wow! I didn’t even know I thought that!
Faith Is Dangerous
You won’t ask, but you want to know how I know meditation works.
You won’t ask, but you want to know why it changes my life and not yours.
Well it’s like how one morning two men woke up thinking they would fly
and one man actually did.
One explorer, didn’t trust anything more than forms he’d observed his whole life;
the other explorer knew problems aren’t solved by the thinking which creates them.
That explorer learned to fly when he threw out all the old tools and said
let’s try something new.
Five years ago I threw out all my old tools.
The surgery I had on my ankle involved skin opening, bone-drilling, tendon grafting,
four months of wound care and learning how to walk again at the ripe old age of 19.
And because no one stopped me, I worked five jobs, seventy hours a week.
I do not remember taking it easy.
I do remember being in pain, every single day.
I also remember feeling scared to climb stairs.
I was lucky to have a friend who forced me to let him help me change.
Yoga is the best possible gift anyone can give.
It is a practice for everyone, regardless of age, health, or religion,
it’s something so few people will spend the money to taste
and something so few people try and then hate.
Finally my hips would move when I walked.
I hadn’t even known that my pain was caused by their tightness.
I still didn’t really know what a chakra was though
and I certainly didn’t appreciate all the nonsense chanting.
But I kept going because the universe spoke to me
through another angel who bought me an entire year of yoga
and I felt obligated to use this uncalled-for gift out of respect for that angel.
Plus I needed a change.
The first time I saw my third eye it was a purple glow between my closed eyes.
I had been told the third eye was an indigo-colored orb
but when I saw this glow again and again, I knew.
I knew without confirmation, yet still my ego played her tricks.
She was afraid of the vulnerability required to buy into a new system
and the death of the old “I-Am-My-Body-And-Nothing-Else” Paradigm
opened up the potential to be told again, “You’re wrong,”
and she was in no mood to re-start as a know-nothing beginner.
Do you know how young you are? What do you know about Truth?
I thought you were smarter than that, you’ve worked so hard.
Don’t you know all those cones and rods in your eyes make what you see?
You know better! Faith is dangerous!
But some-crazy-how my spirit wasn’t drowned out and I kept going to those classes
if only to ensure that the next morning it wouldn’t be so painful to step out of bed.
Some-crazy-how I was blessed with an open mind and a slowly opening heart
which today after much listening I understand has been hurt so much.
Do you ever think about your heart?
Do you ever thank her for the constant beating? Imagine how sad she must be.
This is how it works: You are a microcosm of the entire Universe,
and your heart is a microcosm of the entire You.
This morning when I sat down to meditate
I noticed the cold winter air blow through my single-pane, uninsulated window
to chill my bare feet and arms as the sound of wind chimes and birds washed over me
and I tuned in to my Self.
Five minutes of stillness later I was sweating-hot.
I almost jerked my eyes open with surprise but instead
I grew taller with satisfaction; the energy I had been visualizing
had indeed risen up through my roots, through my spine and into my crown.
If you have faith that electricity can move through walls, unseen,
why can it not move through you, unheard?
What is that internal shift when you hug your mother? Or lie with your lover?
Meditation quiets the physical body to look, listen and feel within and find out.
Speaking of yoga, check out this gorgeous set of prints I found by artist, Gosia Janik!