Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

To break your own heart.

July 25, 2016


I'm not sure exactly what I mean by this one. It's a thought that came to me during yoga practice yesterday. More and more, I've become drawn to a slow, steady practice--for those who know me, a huge leap from my fiery and fast Ashtanga practice. This new practice is no less fierce (indeed, I find myself working way harder these days), but it is more meditative. For so many years I've been running and hanging onto that heavy handle that, for some reason, I believe I must carry or the world will cease to function. Finally, for my own sake, I had to put it down. 


I want to say that the relief from putting it down, from slowing down, is enormous; I'm sure must be. But what struck me most is the unexpected grief--this mourning of... what? Perceived self-control? Or, more deeply, perceived sense of self? If I wasn't this person I've been, and have to find this new path for my own well-being, then what have I lost? Who have I lost? I'm not sure exactly, but I've definitely been mourning her. 


And then yesterday, in opening meditation, it hit me. When I changed this relationship to myself, I'd broken my own heart. I'm not sure I can put it any other way, but it's both absolutely, heart-wrenchingly sad, and also absolutely, heart-wrenchingly lovely. Like a good love story should be, really. 


So, there it is. Break your own heart, petals, and come out the other side a little worse for wear, perhaps, but infinitely braver, infinitely more attuned, infinitely more compassionate with yourself and the beings who, thankfully, bump up against you in this life. 










Please reload

This Quiet Earth