Saturday, December 1, 2012

{ pranayama } yogi. witness. austin, tx

I wrote today. I was empty and I sat in my discomfort like a child in a plastic wading pool. I recognized so many times how I have sought refuge in vices, avoiding the experience of feeling my feelings. I listed all that came up as I let myself be with my emptiness, all the ways that I turn from my higher self and act out of fear. "What makes me so afraid?" I asked myself this question in earnest. The only answer is the unknown. I fear what I will see when I experience my pain without any numbing or distraction, when I look at it face to face and acknowledge that it no longer serves me, that my stories have been just that...stories. I am awake.

That was easier today. Tonight, that list of ways in which I run away from my emptiness is laid out before me. I am determined to live from my essence, I sit here with tears and snot, I inhale with unearthly control to the count of f o u r, hold...I open my mouth and I release a heavy sigh out, deep and audible like I am fogging a mirror. Finally I get it, being with my pain is pranayama. Prana, the breath, it is life. This practice of breath is practice of life, living through each moment with awareness of what I feel, whether it be scary or lovely, painful or uplifting, my breath does not stop and my life does not either. My breath can transform, transcend, and bring me back to Divine truth. I AM still, I AM.

I am writing tonight. Writing because it's another part of my practice, being in my body and aware of how everything is in this moment and trying my best to articulate it. These words are my generous exhalation. I pray they turn into crystalized violet light and shimmer out into the world like a lace blanket of lovingkindness.


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