Summer. I was lying on my belly in Central Park's sheep meadow. Alone. There was a light breeze that would tickle my toes every now and then, the sun was wrapping me with the most delicious warmth-- the kind of warmth that permeates through skin, muscles, and touches the subtle body. It was the kind of moment where all you need is just to breathe.
The grass was green and strong, and every now and then an ant would pass by.
I remember inhaling and exhaling, at times a little sigh would escape my chest.
I was not in peace.
I was not facing a specific problem in my life (or that's what I thought) nor was I stuck battling a crucial challenge that day. Yet the truth was that my feet were fidgety, my mind restless, and there was some kind of pain in my soul. I could not understand it, and I could not press the stop button to what was going on. And I physically could not stay there anymore. I felt anguish.
So I didn't stay.
I left.
Where did I go? It doesn't matter.
What did I do? Not the point.
It was just unbearable to be with myself, hold the stillness, savor the joy.
Why?
I asked the question and now I couldn't ignore it.
I opened my eyes to something, and I couldn't play blind anymore.
My quest was inevitable, unavoidable.
I felt fear. At times I felt lost, and it was exhausting. Facing oneself, becoming a scientist of oneself requires courage, but ultimately...ultimately...it requires faith & truth.
Two concepts that have slapped me in the face: Fear and Truth.
Yoga has been in my life for years. My companion in the physical realm, in the mind sphere, and the soul domain. After that Central Park experience, I knew I had to dig deep with yoga..and I did.
Fear is a senseless, misty, dark monster. It is useless, it does not exist (in most cases, unless you are being chased by a lion or facing a lunatic with a gun). But the daily fear we hold and make our own is originated, designed, and practiced to control. Fear makes us stumble, second-guess ourselves, and be weak.
Fear has tempted me to abandon my search for truth. Fear lured me to find easy answers like "oh, it's normal to feel this way" or "it'll all be OK, just don't pay attention, move on". As if magically it would be OK, as if my restlessness was just part of life, and worst of all, as if my pain was silly.
I wanted Truth.
I wanted to be a child again, wanted to laugh with no bitterness at the back of my throat, wanted to leap in the air as if I could fly.
I wanted to lay and offer my body to the earth and feel safe.
Truth meant I'd have to crawl back to dark corners and probably cry. Truth meant I'd have to look into habits, smell and touch into relationships, taste the sour grapes of deceit-- my own and of others. Truth meant chaos and rebuilding.
Truth meant peace.
Truth meant faith.
I'm here now.
I'm now here.
On this journey-- facing the temptation of fear, deception and pretense. Seeing through it. I'm breathing each day with the yearn for honesty and truthfulness.
The journey that makes life alive. In the walking we are alive--it's more than the end point which anyway is unpredictable and unknown.
I believe in my mystery angel, that picked me up and saved me that sunny day in Central Park.
I know that each step I take is done with propriety and veracity. I'm not interested in deceit and politeness.
My balancing act of truth, faith, & peace.
