Cris de Coeur

Not ‘cry from the heart’ but crisis of the heart.

I went on a weekend yoga retreat a month or so ago.  Heart of Yoga with Mark Whitwell.  It was amazing.  Of course I cried and I learned to really breathe and I made ‘The Promise’ to practise for 9 minutes a day.

Of course I didn’t do it.  I resisted and rebelled and self-sabotaged and made excuses.  And then I would do one day and love it so much and then miss a few days etc.  But something happened.  My heart which has been closed for so long (40 odd years) began to open.  And my world came tumbling, crumbling down.

There I was in my arrogance and hubris (and boy do I understand that word now!), in my anger and rage and hate, so full of myself and puffed up with my own importance with my porcupine quills out keeping everyone far far away and now I see, just like that porcupine, leaving a stench behind me wherever I went.

Not a pretty picture for anyone to see and especially not when I look in the mirror of my soul and see it is me.  These have been deep, dark times and the pain in my heart and soul has been searing.  Now mainly it is just a dull ache as I feel I have sheared through to the heart of myself and am left looking at the dust and ashes and wondering what can be resurrected from this sad and sorry life.

I have been looking for the good in me to no avail.  Ben (that great guru of mine!) has provided one answer ‘you’re a good cooker’ and I have come up with one more:  I can sing.  Hardly traits or skills that will set the world alight or great moral or ethical heights.  But it’s a start.

I have discovered that if I am kind to the world, it is kind to me.  And I keep being told to just write my way through this.  Oh yes, I know I can write.  It is like breathing.  And just as I have forgotten to breathe, I have abandoned myself by not fronting up at the page and opening a vein.

Because one I have said my piece, bared my tortured soul, I feel better, unburdened, lighter, relieved and can go forward.

So this yoga (which I am STILL not doing every day – it gets very intense and painful in my heart and then I have to stop for a few days and have a rest!) has cracked me wide open, revealed me to myself, broken me apart and destroyed every vestige of the image I had of myself . . . I am no more.

But there is a golden egg in my heart now where not very long ago there was an abyss, and I hope it will blossom into something beautiful, that my soul is finally finding a home in my body, mind and heart and I can start living the conscious, ethical, aware and enlightened life I have always dreamed of.

Dear God, that sounds like messianic claptrap, but what I mean is I feel like I have been that angry rebellious teenager all my life, never grown up, never known myself, never loved myself.  And now through this great darkness I see that is possible.  And in seeing myself as I have always been (and no longer wish to be) then I have an opportunity to craft a different, kinder, gentler me.  Who loves others, loves and respects and nurtures myself and experiences more peace and joy.

Amen to that.

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