Injured hamstring, anger, neck pain, depression, irritability, stiff lower back, existential anxiety, are all just a few spices that have seasoned my soul soup this past week. I can barely lean down to pick up a sock without feeling damaged. I wake up in the morning, sit in my meditation space and rouse enough motivation to practice and feel this tornado of lousiness spin around me. I don’t feel better.
What I do feel however is space after giving myself time to let it all be there. Space enough to not get hijacked into a trance, mistaking this contractive state moving through me as me. I can feel a larger sense of myself. Even though my path at the moment is heavy and slow, it’s not the whole path. I have given myself the momentum to just continue the walk, and the stamina to meet the heaviness with steadiness and equanimity.
In practicing I have installed a continued trust in myself, that is the actual nature of this practice. Not to have to emerge bright, and peaceful, and healed, and without problem, but having nurtured myself to continue practicing the actions that align me to my own excellence, my own vastness. It makes the storm just that; the weather, not the sky itself. I can grant myself the serenity to feel more grounded and ok while not having to be immediately fixed.