I’m at the outer edge of a boundary that I erected for myself. It’s no line in the sand, but the real thing; enforced, communicated calmly, held deep in my heart. In theory, I feel really good about it. The kind of good that makes my heart swell, invites me to pay for someone else’s lunch, such a spectacular boundary that I am beyond shocked when it is crossed. And even more gobsmacked when I realize I am the perpetrator; all in the name of self-discovery, expansion, awesome growth.
I teach what I am meant to learn. So it is a surprise to me on 3M Tuesday when I am confronted with the answers to the question that I ask: “What is the biggest lie you have always told yourself?”, that I resonate with every single one. “Shit,” I say under my breath. And then try to hang onto the wispy life raft of self-confidence that offers itself whenever I am hit hard by a need to be vulnerable and an equal lack of desire to do so.
I’m in Eagan Minnesota facilitating a Yoga Psychotherapeutics workshop. It’s beautiful stuff, really, normally, sometimes painfully. But tonight the room practically shimmers with a sense of soil tilled over hard to reveal the sharp earthiness of a life grounded in everlasting expansion. We all sit together, nodding our heads, passing tissues, offering wavering smiles as we parse through the not good enough’s and the shame of our bodies and the glaring void of loss.
We are a Kula, a community of the heart; broken wide-open to reveal the tender, sweet, soft nectar within. Such is enough; when the tight grip of the unknown cedes into uncertainty and what once seemed unsurpassable is now made possible through the generous ferocious deep Spirits of others. We are all interconnected, intertwined, co-inhering, filling up one another’s empty spaces, breathing the same air. We exhale toward spontaneous stillness, quietly, longingly, lovingly, together.