One day while in Peru we were meditating before we started yoga and something crazy happened.
Let me tell you about the situation… I don’t know about you, but sitting still and breathing can be the hardest thing ever. And even harder when there is no music to occupy the space. Typically, during meditation my mind is racing as I’m trying not to think, while emotions run rampant. I feel wild and jumbly inside, which is ironic and frustrating when the whole point is to find calm.
There’s tips for how to work through this because it’s a totally natural thing when we do finally sit still.
But the crazy thing that happened this time is that I was utterly and completely calm on the inside.
I wasn’t forcing it. I wasn’t focusing on relaxing. I didn’t have to pay attention to my breath.
I was just being.
It was lovely. And kind of confusing, lol. As a human, I’m sort of used to that “interior noise” all the time. I laid there amazed. I kept looking for it — something in my body and mind that wasn’t right.
I looked hard. Nope, couldn’t find it.
A single tear trickled down my right cheek.
I stopped looking and allowed the equanimity to exist without questioning it. I settled into peace without worrying if it would last. I smiled gentle at the calm, not trying to figure out why.
We continued into our vinyasa yoga practice, moving and stretching, and as soon as it was over I grabbed my journal and wrote. I’d like to share this poem with you.
Morning Flow
i tried to find the angst
… it wasn’t there
i am settled
i tried to find the judgment
… it was replaced
with acceptance
i tried to find the pain
… it was healed
always IN the problem
but not here
not now
like the water pools
at machu picchu
i am sacred emptiness
that makes me feel
so full
reflections of
gratitude and
love
[pause and take a deep breath for dramatic effect 😄]
What’s interesting to me is that nothing circumstantially was any different in my life from when I left for this trip or before that yoga practice; still had bills and family stuff. Still the same issues/challenges of life. But something was different inside.
My intention after the trip was to carry this feeling into my daily existence once I got home, and as we were sitting around the bonfire on our last night I felt compelled to come up with a way to SHARE with others, too.
If you notice, one of the phrases in that poem talks about judgment and acceptance. I think so much of what keeps us in that jumbly state of being is judgment. It’s insidious (dangerously sneaky and everywhere) and our culture condones it and thrives on it.
It got me thinking — what is the point of all this judging???
So, next week, I’m doing a free Let Go of Judging Challenge. It starts Sunday, April 17. Every day, you’ll get an email focused on a different theme. Plus we’ll meditate at noon central in my Facebook group (a link to the recording will be emailed to you). And you’ll get a handy tracker/journal worksheet as a guide you can do on your own to help you process, plus I’ll be around if you ever want to chat!
It’s very simple to sign up. Hit reply and say “I’m in!”
If you want to let go of angst, if you want to move toward calm, if you want to learn how to meditate in a “supervised,” gentle way, if you want to let go of judgment, then join me!!
May you be willing to let go of there always being a problem. May you be open to feeling calm.
Many hugs!
Laura
A few things:
💜 Thank you from my heart to yours if you’ve already signed up! I hope you enjoyed this message.
💜 Here’s my email from yesterday, if you’d like to read more. Click here.
💜 The photo above are water pools that were in Machu Picchu. I liked this explanation I found of them online: Our local guide then led us to two small rock circles carved into the ground in one part of the site. The circles had small rims and were filled with perhaps a centimeter of water. Standing over the circles, one could see the reflection of the sky very clearly. According to our guide, the Incas used the reflecting pools to observe the stars, as craning one’s neck to stare upwards at the sky for long periods of time proved to be a less than effective means of making celestial observations. The lesson here is that sometimes it is necessary to look down in order to look up. In other words, staring directly at a problem might not be the most effective way to analyze it. Sometimes inverting what we are observing may be more useful.
