Bloggin Classics: Peaceful. Happy. Love

I am being transformed. Again. The beauty overwhelms me when I step into it. I love that words are only words. They are markers, signs pointing, but never can fully convey the full meaning of the experience.

I am breathing in the concept that wanting to be somewhere else than where you are is like divorcing the present. It’s a way of bolting from your life. It’s hell. Every moment that I spend at work, wishing I wasn’t there, I’m in hell. I lose those hours, because in those hours, I’m not inhabiting my life. It’s so simple, and this concept is not new, but I’m having a reunion with it, like when you see an old friend and you can pick up right where you left off.

I’ve changed. Instead of trying to add virtues to reach a point of fullness, I am now taking away. Because who I am at my core is already perfect. Divine. I forgot. I got caught up in the fight of trying to do better, be better, be smarter. Reading feverishly, adding meditation, adding adding adding. When I drop that idea and realize that I already have everything inside, that I don’t need an expert to steer me in the right direction, aaaaaahhhhh peace flows like a river.

I’ve caught my mind trying to play the same old stories. It’s Friday night. I’m alone. Nobody has called. Nobody is free to spend time with me. This must mean I’m lonely. This must mean I’m a loser. On the verge of tears, a flicker of consciousness. And it’s like, POOF, the story shrinks, and becomes humorous in the same instant.

I caught my mind judging myself as I looked at myself in the mirror during Salsa class. You are too big to move like this. It’s not sexy when your thighs are so big. You should come back when you’re smaller. On the verge of tears, I sit and wait for the feeling to pass. I watch the other students floating, spinning, smiling. I am about to leave when my instructor approaches. ”Wanna dance?” ”Ok” He spins me, and the joy comes. I screw up, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, except the moment, the feeling of moving effortlessly with another. I laugh.

As I begin to inhabit my body, I allow myself to touch and see all of it. It’s not bad. It’s quite alright, I’ve decided, and I love it. No matter what, I love it, because of it’s wisdom, and it’s honesty, and it’s simple way of communicating with me without language. Hunger. Pleasure. Satiated. Sore. Light. Those are the words I’ve added to describe, but the sensations themselves are nameless.

I’ve begun to stop multi-tasking. I used to think it was one of my best characteristics. But I multi-tasked myself into a fog, where nothing was being accomplished. Nothing was receiving the attention it deserved. Now I eat differently. No music, no movie, no standing. I sit with my food, and I taste it. When my body gives the signal, I stop. The signal is the most obvious thing, and it’s never wrong. Giving attention to eating is changing the rest of my life. Marc David says that your relationship with food is a reflection of your relationship with your life. How you eat is how you live. I see that.

Today I walked through the grocery store in wonder. I saw chips. I saw Mini Eggs, a former drug of choice for me. Instead of tensing up, I told myself, “You can have that. You can have all of that if that’s what you really want. Body, if you want chips, you’re getting them. If you want allllllllll these candies and chocolate, I will provide them for you”. POOF, they lost their sexiness. They lost their mystery, their allure. My body didn’t want them, so I moved on. I’m building this trust between my body and me. When my body knows that I’m listening, life is simple. It is exquisite.