Life pushes us. Sometimes it feels like it doesn’t stop pushing us, one thing after another after another, and then more to come. You break down, and just as you’re about to get yourself together again, something else happens, pushing you back down into the darkness. Just when you think that there are no more tears left inside you, there you are, in a heap of tears on the bedroom floor: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2011/06/why-being-broken-in-a-pile-on-your-bedroom-floor-is-a-good-idea-julie-jc-peters/. Sometimes you want to scream at the cosmos, at God, at the fucker who broke your heart and the mother who brought him into the world, but you just don’t have the energy to even whisper.
From the bottom of your wine bottle all you see is the broken and ugly, and all you feel is that you are broken and ugly yourself. Drinking keeps the pain away or rather it replaces it with a more physical pain, a pain that you can actually explain. This, this pain in your heart, this you can’t explain. There is nothing rational about this. It just doesn’t make sense to hate and love someone at the same time. And how can you feel angry, sad and empty all at once? It’s against everything that you think is true.
Then there are well meaning friends telling you that you should go out more, see people, when all you want to do is sit in the darkness and weep. The thing is though, after so many heartbreaks that went un-mourned, it feels like you’re grieving for all of them now. Maybe, just maybe it’s time to do something different. Maybe it’s time to tell the biological clock, and that timer that says you only have so and so months to mourn before you’re back out there to fuck off. Maybe it’s time to honour this experience, and most of all, it’s time to honour yourself.
What the fuck is she talking about, you say? Well, my story is that for 10 years, I was chasing an imagined clock. Sometimes it seemed like even before the door completely closed after someone had stepped out, someone else was stepping in. So much so that I have spent entire relationships (especially the short ones, and I apologise greatly to the men involved) drunk to avoid facing the truth that my heart was not really in it. To be honest, I have been in short relationships where I can hardly remember any of the conversations that we had. It was too hard to mourn my relationships so I went out, got drunk, got into other relationships. Avoided.
Then I got on the mat, and there was no escaping the edge. In the silence, you can’t run, hide or reach for a drink, as a kindly voice brings you to a place where you are a shaking (sometimes sobbing) mess, and then says, “stay for the exhale,” or “play at your edge.” Believe you me, sometimes playing at your edge is not like playing at all. Things come up while you’re standing there at the edge, and you have nothing but your breath to help you through. You can only run for so long. There comes a time when you have no choice but to honour your pain. But you know what? It’s at the edge that the world starts to change. It’s at the edge that you start to change, and once you live in it, breathe in it, and sometimes cry in it, the edge becomes your friend. At the edge, you start looking at your samskaras, the patterns that are etched so deep in your life that you think they are a part of you. The truth is, they are not. They are just patterns. Changeable patterns.
You see, we are conditioned to avoid the edge. To hide and distract from the pain and the anger, but Life, beautiful and complicated doesn’t just give up. She takes us there time and again, and just when you think you’re going to go over, she pushes you just a little bit more, and that’s when you start to unfold, to find that jewel within your lotus flower https://azphoenix.wordpress.com/2012/09/03/jewel-in-the-lotus-flower/. She takes your hand and dances with you, only to fuck you over, this lady called life, and just when you think she’s done, she does it again. The thing is she knows better. She knows your edge, and where you think you can’t go, she knows you can. It is her way of opening you to become the person you were meant to become. It is her way of opening a door for you to start looking at you instead fo at others. But like I can only invite you to your yoga mat, Life can only invite you to your edge. The choice to play at your edge, to swear (under your breath or loudly) and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, to take three more breaths between the tears is yours and yours alone. But if at some point you do, always, always stay for the exhale.