When you've really sunk down into it, and are feeling grounded in your feet, and your thighs are strong yet quiet, and your arms are in perfect alignment so they really feel floaty yet powerful, and you are surveying all you can see beyond your front middle finger, well. There is no greater feeling.At that moment in time, you are the most kick-assing-est person on the planet.
In yoga pants.
Yeah, well - it's all about putting things in perspective.
Kind of like when the Baron gifted me a month-long membership to a hot new yoga studio for my birthday. Now this is one of those 'now', 'happening' places, where the age demographic is wa-a-ay below mine. But, I think they must have some kind of Affirmative Action plan in place in the event that old farts like me somehow stumble upon their doorway during our usual daily aluminum-fuelled random wanderings.
I must admit that I was a little perturbed by being led by a young lady not much older than my son.
Here's where the perspective thing comes into play, though. I embraced the Namaste and just let it go. And I'm so glad I did, because this lovely woman is a whoosh of fresh air in the staleness of life.
One evening, during our final relaxation pose, she read us a musing from Paolo Coelho's "Warrior of the Light"; my further investigation into this wonderful gem brings us todays TT:
"The Warrior of the Light sometimes behaves like water, flowing around the obstacles he encounters.
Occasionally, resistance might mean destruction, and so he adapts to the circumstances. He accepts, without complaint, that the stones in his path hinder his way through the mountains.
Therein lies the strength of water: It cannot be touched by a hammer or ripped to shreds by a knife. The strongest sword in the world cannot scar its surface.
The river adapts itself to whatever route proves possible, but the river never forgets its one objective: the sea. So fragile at its source, it gradually gathers the strength of the other rivers it encounters.
And, after a certain point, its power is absolute."
So, as I sit waiting, impatiently, for an appointment with the guy at the place about the thing, I will embrace my inner Warrior of the Light.
And just flow.
Flow.
4 comments:
Beautiful. Thank you, BvonB.
I so needed that today. I love the word 'flow' except when it refers to the monthly cycle. Then I don't love it so much.
Oh, how true, how true.
About 18 months ago my world as I knew it was ripped apart. I cried. Then cried more. Stopped eating. Cried at work. Became numb to everything. Was a mess.
With a little bit of time and some very sage words of wisdom and support from a long-time soul sister, I surrendered. All the fear, all the trauma, all the badness were no longer going to rule me. I was going to adapt and move on.
Several months later, a lady boss said, "What has happened to you, CBW? Things must have changed in your shituation?" To which I answered,"The shituation is still there. I just changed how I look at it."
It's extremely liberating to adapt and move on rather than expect that thing blocking your path to change, because it won't.
Excellent thought for this Thursday, thank you for the reminder.
Countess Ti: I think you might know a little about the beauty of flowing. Maybe it is I who should be thanking you...
Countess TNA: Just visualize the good connotation. And really, even for all its annoyance, the monthly one can be considered a blessing to many.
Countess CBW: That you live near water and can mimic its fluidity is a wonderful thing. Your change in perspective is very inspiring; I hope that you can share this hopeful story with someone other than just l'il ol'me. I am proud of you, and proud for you, and so glad to know you.
(w.verif: nalls. As in 'Lordy Day! Would ya take a looky here at my hands? It's time to get my nalls done agin.'
Post a Comment