Sometimes life is so full, it is difficult to know where to begin. How to blend meditation in Colorado in the driving rain and snow with the richness of a Boston accent that fills my heart?
I think it can be easier to love a place from a distance. Massachusetts may just be a place I love in this way. Time in one place tends to wear me down. Perhaps, this is why I move so often. I crave variety. I want to experience new places. At the same time, I feel the tug for home and to stay put. Certainly, my digestive tract would prefer it I ate the same bland foods every day. Its just easier that way, though it takes a toll on my soul.
There is just no way to have it all, unless I redefine the all.
In the last year and a half since leaving Massachusetts, I have spent many hours reflecting on the ideas of success and happiness. Having it all may simply entail rethinking how much needs to fit in the all. I can admire much without needing to possess it, and in fact I feel lighter without the burden of it all weighing me down, physically and psychologically.
As one of my yoga teachers told my class recently, I don’t want too much stuff because I don’t want to have to dust it all.
Agreed. Anything (im)material requires some responsibility on my part. I have to care for all of those skeletons in my closet, lest they slip out if I shirk my watch responsibilities. More and more, I am beginning to wonder if maybe I should just let them out altogether. So, letting go is becoming my practice.
Beside me sits my third bag to replace the two before it that have been stolen in house and car break-ins on this continent and in France I have slowly replaced all the little odds and ends I like to keep inside a bag I carry around with me when I travel. I am hoping this one will stick around, but I am also preparing myself to not feel too terribly despondent should it grow little legs and carry on its way with someone else.
Some beings simply long to see the world. I know. I am one of them.
May has been a full month. As a friend told me, What’s for you won’t go by you, and I seem to be catching hold of many of the opportunities as they pass me by. As I sit on a train bound for Lowell, I realize that I have always wanted to be a part of the passing rather than being left behind.
It comes with a price. I have been reflecting on the idea that the path to enlightenment is expensive—literally and figuratively. A recent meditation retreat in Boulder, Colorado became a reality for me only with financial aid, for which I am forever grateful. It is ironic to have created the spaciousness in my life to be open to opportunity but not have the economic ability to take hold of many that pass by me with all of their glittering possibility.
I know that I can follow the yogic path without selling the farm. I also know that some things are worth pinching pennies for. A friend recently told me, People can always find the money to pay for something they really want.
Working now as a self-employed artist and editor, I realize that the services I offer fall under the category of luxury for many, so I can relate to the predicament of those who offer trainings in yoga, meditation, and beyond. We all need to eat, and it would be nice to eat well, which is more expensive in this country than makes sense. I think we all deserve peace and the alternative kind of prosperity that comes with it.
And so, I chant my mantra every morning and night for 20 minutes at a time, following the fluidity of my mind’s digressions, always returning to the breath and the mantra. This, I know, is where the true prosperity lies, and I don’t want to miss it when it comes hurtling along the tracks toward me as I stand on the platform, waiting and ready.
life of m 