I’m down to the last scraps of bar soap for a shower, and too overwhelmed this morning to even pick up the linens I managed to drop off at the laundry days ago. Thank God I have coffee, and creamer as I write and work through piles on my desk of equally amazing projects, all so next level, I could freak out.
It’s been the kind of summer where some real shit went down, some reeeaaaal magical, too. I’ve made mistakes, taken risks—big risks, and jumped into the deep end of the pool daily. I made a mess of my living space to accommodate more students, and a mess of my emotional self to accommodate more grace.
The spiritual work—is messy. You have no choice. Divine leads you to your teachings, and if you’re not gripping, good. Because then you can get to the unraveling. There is always more to unravel. A dear teacher of mine reminds us, “Don’t – sanitize – the practice.”
I really got that this summer. We don’t get to stay clean.
I know change is scary, and situations not always black and white, or clear. But there is gold in your surrendering, in your not saying no to what’s in front of you, what’s playing out. Why are we so fearful to shape shift in our personal lives? When all the yogis across this country ever want to do is change poses all class long. Off the mat—are you shifting…?
Or have you created the same rules, same perfection, same tired pose in your new spiritual life, as the one you ran from.
Rumi says, “Beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”
You all know I’m the kind of teacher who leads her class Sunday morning and heads over to the local saloon to drink a mimosa, and maybe sing a song. I mix all kinds into my life, and always have. I’m an artist. And deeply spiritual. My yoga practice showed up at twenty-one, but I never felt the urge to preach above, or to even smoke screen my other worlds to students.
I live my life. And what you see is what you get. Although to be honest, I’ve yearned to control things of late. To be able to control my emotions more and share less. And yet—the exact work for me was to be messy, even— in front of my students, my friends, my family of consciousness, creative warriors. And that is the work.
May I not sanitize the practice for you. May I not ever act as if, because I have sat with masters and studied that I have some unicorn status free from childhood pain, daily chaos, or dark nights of the soul. Yoga teachers mess up, too. We get scared, stay out too late, miss a morning practice burning both ends too far sometimes… It’s called human. We all have it.
You can’t choose the facts of life, they come from stars, from Source. And creation is messy. It takes blood and guts to change, spewing it all over yourself until out of destruction something else is born… And that something else, is beautiful. The best sunset of late summer yet…