Samudra

Somewhere along the way of practicing yoga and dipping my toe into Buddhism I picked up a tip to help quiet the mind while trying to meditate: Picture yourself sitting at the bottom of the ocean, where everything is still, and the waves and turmoil are all above you, on the surface.

The metaphor, of course, is that our thoughts and emotions can swirl around us but at the core we can remain peaceful. I've always found it a particularly helpful exercise, perhaps because I am so drawn to the ocean anyway, and I find myself coming back to it sometimes in the middle of a hectic day when I pause to take a couple of breaths.

Today I feel quite literally like sitting on the ocean floor, except the couch is my sand and the current around me is everything I have to do, emotions I'm trying to avoid, thoughts too difficult to deal with. As long as I sit here and remain still, everything is fine. But the moment I get up the peace is gone and stress descends.

I'm not quite sure what to do. I try to live by the motto, "ride the wave," and right now the wave is crushing me, holding me under, like what my dad used to call "rolling" me, when you can't find the surface and the tide somersaults you and for a brief couple of seconds you think you might really drown. I'm trying to remind myself that I never drown. I always find air, and my feet always right themselves, and I am free to swim to shore or continue playing in the surf.

Just yesterday I told a friend that very early on in my life I began writing my own rules and forging my own path. I don't regret that, nor do I plan to stop doing it. Sometimes, though, it just feels so hard. Sometimes I just wish I could follow the steps that seem to work for everyone else instead of breaking my own ground. But I know my truth, and to ignore that would bring me more unhappiness than the pain and loneliness of making my own way.

So after I publish this post, I'm going to get up off the couch and jump into the current, because the peace here is false and if I don't fight for air, then I have succumbed to the wave instead of riding it. It's not time for riding and floating. It's time to paddle and duck dive. Hard work and patience. Another good set will come.

Damn, I'm being so lazy today. I have no idea what time I went to bed, but I woke up sometime around 11am. I made my way home, threw in a load of clothes, ate some cereal, researched Fantasy Football for an hour, took a nap, and here I am.

I need to go put those clothes in the dryer/on the drying rack. (Aside: Can I just say how much I fucking HATE doing this? I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate this task. It takes FOR-EV-ER. Mostly because I am neurotic about my clothes and have this belief that the fabric & color lasts longer if you don't put them in the dryer - even stuff that says go in the dryer - so I end up only tossing mainly underwear and socks in the dryer and trying to find a place to air dry everything else. Such a fucking pain in my ass.)

I need to clean the bathroom.

I need to walk the dog.

I need to sweep.

I need to clean the kitchen.

I need to sort through the giant stack of mail on my table, on the counter, in the mailbox....

But here I am. Writing this blog entry. Yoga Pose of the Week didn't fare as well as I intended, but I'm not giving up. I'm still yoga-ing and my friends gave me a badass Astanga book I can't wait to dig into. Hopefully I'll have the inspiration and time to share some of it on the blog.

Oh, the blog. Pretty sure no one reads it anymore, and that's fine and understandable. I am sporadic about reading everyone else's, too. I don't want to give up on it, though, so that's why I'm writing this post. It's been awhile since I've posted anything beyond yoga, food, hot celebrity stuff. Don't get me wrong, those things are well and good, but there is so much more to my life, too. A lot of it I can't/don't want to write here, for privacy's sake, for embarrassment's sake, for a hundred twenty-seven other reasons. But the other day I thought of something that I normally wouldn't share on the blog, but the takeaway point was pretty important to me, so fuck it. I'm going to write it.

Over the past several weeks, I have been hanging out with a Boy. A few people know about him, but mainly I keep my relationships under wraps until I know how substantial they are going to be. I've dated enough to know myself and the men I date - these things can be fleeting. But this thing with Boy seems different. Well, sort of. We have a lot of fun together, we have excellent chemistry, we seem to think the same about life. . .and on it goes. I will confess. I am developing more than a crush on him.

And because of my past experiences, of course once I realized this possibility beyond a crush, I freaked the fuck out. Number One because I don't want to get hurt. Number Two because Boy has an expiration date; there is almost no way it will last "forever" and I don't want to get hurt (I won't go into detail here; just trust me on this). I spent a couple of days brooding, determined I should just end things now, before I get in too deep, before it leaves a wound that will scar instead of just a paper cut.

Ordinarily I live my life the opposite way - living in the moment, dealing with consequences later. It is better to have loved and lost. . .blah blah blah. . .never say no to an adventure. . .you know me. You get the point. There was just something about this, something that made me balk at the possibility of hurt. It has been a rough few years for me, broken heart-wise, and I just wasn't sure I could face another one.

Then I realized something I've been learning with yogic philosophy and Buddhism: Nothing is forever. No thing. No one. No relationship. Some last longer than others, but everything lives and then dies. We have no way of knowing how long anything will last. Even if Boy had the potential for "forever," anything could take him or me away at any moment.

That's when I took my head out of my ass and decided to embrace it head on. Get back to my roots and live in the moment. Appreciate every. single. second. of happiness. Life is an ebb and flow, an up and down. Every day, even, has its moments of good and bad, a progression of moods. Why deny myself these delicious times with a great person just because he won't always be there? It was silly to even consider it.

So here I am. Lazy on a Saturday because we stayed up too late last night laughing and drinking and watching funny things on TV. And I don't care about the laundry, the dirty kitchen, the mail. These things will get done because they must. For a moment, for a few hours, I will soak in the happiness and just be.

The Truth of the Matter

Every break-up or ending has that moment. That moment you know in your heart and bones that s/he's not coming back, that you're not going back, that it will not be fixed, that it truly is over. Sometimes you don't even realize you've been holding on to the tiniest of tiny hopes; sometimes you have outwardly longed and prayed for a reversal of events. Either way, the time always comes - sooner or later, but always - when you know.

I think the pscyhologists call it "acceptance" or similar. I call it "reality-smacks-you-in-the-fucking-face-and-forces-you-to-wake-the-fuck-up."

It seems strange, because it feels like a brick in your stomach, but in actuality, you've been waiting for this moment, the final grieving. When you can let go and honestly live again. When you can stop looking backward or forward and be present in the now.

It doesn't mean you will no longer think of the person/place/thing or even that you will never be sad again. But you are now on the way toward true healing because you are viewing the situation as it is, not as you hope or wish it to be. The truth of the matter.

So today, I am sad but also happy because this part is almost over. . .and I'm this close to being me again.

UPDATE: My Deepak Chopra Quote of the Day from Twitter is very apropos. "Today I will commit myself to detachment. I will allow myself and those around me the freedom to be as they are." Deepak Chopra